


Don't Cut Me Off

by HadenXCharm



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexual Character, Background Relationships, Betrayal, F/M, Fall-out between friends, Forgiveness, Gang Violence, Give hisagi a chance 2k18, Ikkaku-centric, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mystery, Plot-heavy, Romance, Slow Build, Violence, dark pasts, one piece cameos, yumichika has a secret
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 19:05:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 149,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7450594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HadenXCharm/pseuds/HadenXCharm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything about his life majorly sucks. Well, that's not true: Ikkaku has a good job, he has a couple buddies, he's mostly sober. Nah, what's annoying is that everyone around him seems to know what they're doing, getting married and being fiscally responsible while he's still all alone. What's more is that he's approaching thirty and he still doesn't have the grit to ask his crush out for drinks, but c'mon, it's not his fault! What's a bald guy to do when the man of his dreams works in a hair salon?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ikkaku's down on his luck, stranded with no cash in the middle of a storm. Things couldn't be worse. . . or could this be a stroke of fate?

It was raining. Fuck.

It was raining, and Ikkaku had lost the rest of his bus fare —  _Double_ fuck.

That meant he hadn't been able to make his bus transfer, leaving him stranded in an unfamiliar part of Akihabara with no money and a shitty phone with no gps… and yeah, he's in the rain _._

_‘. . . Fuck!’_

He had his hood up, which wasn’t really doing much against the wind and rain, considering he was already soaked. He stomped along through puddles, his toes already beginning to itch as water snuck into his boots.

Ah well, it's not really so bad — just as long as he doesn't get a goddamn cold from this, he'd survive.

He's pretty sure that this part of the city would actually be nice to be lost in if it weren't so rainy. The shop fronts were lit up and welcoming, the pay phones and bus stops were well-insulated, and the gutters were clean. Traffic was patchy, and there weren't too many people outside to share the sidewalk with, considering the bad weather and the time of day. The morning rush was over, to Ikkaku’s dismay… which meant he was fucking _late._ So much for being a reliable employee. He was gonna’ get his ass _demoted_ for this. _Guhhhh._

The cheerful high-rise shopping centers and video billboards did little to improve his mood. He could probably find his way to a subway from here — there's always one about and he knew that Akihabara had a station — but it's not like he can do much more than go down there and dry off, because he had no money to get on. He never bought one of those cards, so he always pays in cash, which he doesn't have now. He had enough to go in the 100-yen shop, but that was pretty much it _._

“Haaah, what bad luck I have today!” he sighed, complaining loudly to himself.

He’d already been walking for about an hour and a half, and was now just fucking _wandering_ around. His phone was dead, so he couldn’t check his progress, but it's not like he can just _stop_ — fuck, he had to get to work, rain or shine, on foot or not! . . . Except from here, Kawaguchi was probably still another three hours walk… and to even get there, he’d have to cross over the Sumida and Arakawa rivers on the fucking _freeway._

He wasn’t sure which way that was from here though. Maybe if he just found a map or a police box, he could get his bearings, maybe even turn back and go home. It wouldn’t be too bad to take a day off, right? . . . He could call in sick if he had enough money for one phone call, and he did, if he could make it quick. A department store would be the perfect place to find one of those phone-boxes. Better yet, if he found a police box, there'd be a phone and a map there. In fact, from here, he was sure that he could see a-

_Splash! . . ._

Ikkaku stood stock still for a moment as a sheet of frigid drain water smacked him in the face, sticking his already damp clothes to his body completely. He must have been standing too close to the curb and had been splashed by a tire bouncing through a puddle. Ikkaku opened one eye and watched the car drive off. Idiot driver. Who drives that close to the curb anyway?

‘ _Fuckin’ perfect.’_

He growled and wiped the dirty water out of his eyes, gritting his teeth and staring after the car for a moment longer, considering the benefits of pursuing and committing violence. Cursing his luck, he simply huddled closer to the shop fronts he was passing, staying out of the way of a couple of shoppers. Since nobody was fool enough to go out during rainy season without an umbrella, all the people out here were still dry — not him, though. He had on a big hoodie, but it was all wet, and shit, he was really starting to shiver. That wind was cutting into his bones.

Damn, why was the shop so far away? He couldn’t even get to _work_ without having to fight through a storm! At least his buddies would cover for him until he got there. Besides, his boss wasn’t strict. It was just that Ikkaku wanted nothing more than to impress that man, and he couldn’t do so if he was coming in to work late or missing days. Ikkaku hadn’t taken a single sick day since he’d been employed there. Zaraki relies on him, so he always came in, rain or shine.

But not today, it seemed.

This is what he got for thinking he could brave tsuyu with no umbrella — what a fucking idiot he’s been.

Walking a bit further, Ikkaku sighed, accepting that he was getting nowhere. He was fucking lost, and hungry, and tired, and _cold_. The streets were getting darker, since he’d strayed from the central shopping centers. Ikkaku refused to ask for help even though he knew he'd get it if he did ask, he's always been stubborn like that. Finally, he just leaned up against one of the storefronts, resigning himself to waiting until the rain stopped.

Feeling a bit like a drowned rat, he crossed his arms in a huff. If only he hadn’t gotten into a fight with that jerk and let his last thousand yen note blow away on the wind. If only his damn motorbike wasn’t being tuned up. If only he’d checked that he had enough money in his wallet before leaving the house.

He wondered if Renji was still working on that Mitsubishi. Maybe those two were worrying about him or something, since he wasn’t usually late. They were probably _lost_ without him and his guidance. Ikkaku smirked.

' _Yeah right.'_

In truth, they probably didn’t miss him at all. More beer for them, right? Eh, whatever. He’d be there soon, and he’d be busting heads if they’d fucked up that paint-job… just as soon as he got out of this fucking rain and put on some dry clothes. Just as soon as his luck turned around — couldn’t be long now. It always did.

Looking up, he realized that the nearest shop had an awning over its window, a plastic awning that was sending all the water rolling down it and keeping the window it protected miraculously dry. Look, see? Better already!

Hurriedly stepping under its cover, Ikkaku began squeezing the arms of his sweater to get the water out, rubbing his hands together and breathing on them. The rain wasn’t hitting him here, but the wind sure was. He’d get drier quicker this way, but until then, he’d have to weather the cold with his warrior’s spirit.

After a moment of leaning against the window and putting a wet print on it with his back, the lights from behind him began to distract him, and he turned to look inside the store through the half-drawn curtains.

It was a barber-shop — or a hair-parlor… or, hair _salon?_  That's the name, right? Ikkaku frowned. It probably wasn’t actually a barber-shop, because men went there to get their faces shaved and stuff too, so he's heard. This looked more like one of those places that would do your nails and your makeup and style your hair. Ikkaku had seen this type of place on TV before and there were a few near his apartment, but he’d never been inside one.

Honestly, the whole place made him think of a dance studio that had been remodeled, because the floor is wood panel and there's a mirror wall above a continuous stretch of counter. The barber chairs looked incredibly plush, made with leather and metal. The counter was a clutter of bright bottles and shiny tools, and there were a few people in there getting their hair… _done?_   One girl was having her hair wrapped around a steel rod, and _smoke_ was coming off of it!

Ikkaku frowned, watching as after a few seconds, the steel barrel opened up, and the girl’s hair held in a perfect curl. “Huh,” he mumbled, finger on his lower lip.

From what he could see on the far back wall of the store, there were those special chairs with the hoods that he didn’t know the name of. Ikkaku assumed it was like a big hand-dryer for your head, but he didn’t really know for sure. It looked like an alien pod, or a cryonic-stasis tube.

Ikkaku’s eyes darted around the light fixtures and to different faces, lingering on the large posters on the bare patches of wall. There were dark piles of hair being swept off the floor by a young worker. All in all, it looks kinda' cozy with all its comfortable furniture — not to mention all the blades, that's always a fun time.  


And, and… wait.  
  


  


 

Ikkaku blinked, actually wiping his eyes clean of water and doing a double-take. Who was _that?_

His mouth opened slightly as he watched one of the hair-stylists working. The slender curve of their back caught Ikkaku’s eyes and sent them rolling down it over and over, straight down those long legs. And what a face . . . Their hair was so dark and shiny, and when they turn enough that Ikkaku can see their face, he sees it's a guy, and _damn, what the fuck, who looks that good in real life?!_

Ikkaku blinked, closing his mouth.  
  
It vaguely registered in the back of his mind where no conscious thought went on and where instincts ran the show that he’d actually done that ‘head-turn’ thing that men do in movies. That had never happened to him in his life — it’s just, the guy's so good-looking that it's fucking _weird_ , like it's a spectacle to be stared at. It wasn’t even his face that made him pretty so much as his whole... whole _thing_ — the face, the posture, his demeanor, everything. He's so... so...

He's got this glow — he's so honed in on what he's doing, his hands moving so precisely, eyes following what he was doing with careful focus. It's fascinating to watch.

Ikkaku sighed, slumping slightly against the window, his nose nearly pressing on it. He seemed so... so _non-boring._

He distantly noted that he doesn't usually go for guys, but just as soon noted that it must not really matter. What mattered to him was that… well, he didn’t really _know_ what mattered, actually. All he knew was that he knew what he liked when he saw it, and he was seeing it right now.

Perhaps what was so attractive was the utter focus this guy putting into his work — Ikkaku doesn't know anything about cutting hair, but pretty-boy looks like he's really good at it. He's got nice hands, his movements so quick and graceful that Ikkaku felt himself sigh involuntarily. He was very lean, very skilled, and very beautiful. That was just Ikkaku’s type.

Not that he’d ever really had a type before. It looked like he’d just figured that out.

Ikkaku blinked dazedly, finding himself staring unabashedly as the man continued with his job, oblivious to his audience. Time seemed to slow as Ikkaku took in his beautiful face and watched him work. He held a comb in his teeth, and as Ikkaku spied on him, he styled the woman’s hair with little pins and lots of hair spray, making her look absolutely lovely. He held a hand-mirror in front of her with a flourish, tilting it so she could see the back of her own head in the large mirror on the wall in front of her. He worked a tiara into her hair with some pins, fixing it in place. He gave her the mirror again and bent slightly so they could both look at the same time.

Finally, he nodded, stepped back, and adjusted it with some more pins, holding a few in his teeth, his hands moving so fast and so accurately that Ikkaku felt like he was watching a magic trick.

How did he _do_ that with his fingers? Ikkaku frowned, watching on as the lady’s friend came up to her and they went to pay. He just peered around them, because although the girl was nice-looking too, Ikkaku was interested in that feather-guy instead! If he could do that with scissors, fuck, imagine what he might do with a sword!

He watches him trim a little boy's hair for some time, finally realizing that his hands were pressed to the glass when one of the female workers turned and saw him, seeming startled. Ikkaku frowned, backing away slightly.

He looked at the door, swallowing, hands twitching slightly. He… he wanted to go in.

Scowling at the embarrassing desire, he looked both ways, as if somebody would try to stop him, because he knew damn well he had no business going inside a hair-cutting shop, but all the same he just really wanted to go inside.

Now Ikkaku wasn’t stupid by any means, but he _was_ one who tended to ‘leap before he looked,’ if you catch his drift. He’d never been one to doubt his desires before, since he was all for hedonism and self-sought contentment… but something was causing him to pause.

He leaned from one foot to the other in indecision, and just as he was about to chance it and go inside, the pretty guy turned to look out the window and Ikkaku jumped away on reflex. Turning quickly, he sped off in the other direction, still freezing and soaked to the bone.  


  


 

He should be at work anyways…


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ikkaku can't seem to get that cutie off his mind, and spends most of his workday thinking about him. His coworkers and best buds, Renji and Hisagi, only serve as a temporary distraction with their stupid arguing. What's been going on with them anyways...

“Hey guys, d’y’ever go getcher’ hair cut professionally?” Ikkaku wondered aloud as he soaped up his hands at the utility sink, using that thick orange soap designed to get grease off the skin.

“Hm? I do sometimes,” Renji mentioned, tongue poking out of his mouth as he tinkered around, squatting and forcing his steel-toed boots to bend and crease the leather — no class. His bandanna and face were streaked with grease, as well as his white t-shirt and the bandages protecting his hands. His jeans were flecked with paint and were torn at the knees, and were getting progressively dirtier as he wiped his hands on his thighs.  
  
Hisagi also answered that he got his hair cut pretty regularly, his voice echoing slightly in the acoustics of the garage. He was chilling in the corner near the row of lockers and coat-hooks. He was next to a rusty metal office desk piled high with clutter, taking a short break in a swivel chair whose vinyl cushion had been punctured.

“Hav’ya’ ever heard a’ this place called somethin’ like ‘fuwat?’” Ikkaku asked them both absently, shaking his hands over the stained grimy plastic basin of the large sink to get the excess water off them, then wiping them on his thighs.

“Yeah, that’s actually where I go,” Shuuhei replied, his chair creaking each time he rocked himself back and forth in it with his leg. The wheels on it were stuck, but the swivel action still worked, and that baby still leaned back pretty far too. Comfy as heck. Ikkaku would go knock Hisagi right out of it if he weren’t too busy daydreaming about feathery cuties.

“It’s been a while since I’ve gone, now that I think about it,” Hisagi noted, running his hand through his hair, which was its usual dark grey.

Renji looked up, wanting to contribute. “Wait, _Fuwato?_ That’s out in Akihabara, right? I’ve been there too,” he piped up. “They do all sorts a’ hairstyles for  otaku. Once when I was there, there was this one guy who was dressed like Tuxedo Kamen gettin' his hair cut. Really weird.” When no one immediately commented, Renji scowled. “Hey, _hey!_ Listen, listen’a’ me!”

“‘m listenin’, Kid,” Ikkaku assured gruffly, not even turning to look at him. Renji let out a ‘puh,’ as if he’d known it all along.

“Well, I don’t go there now that we moved, but I used to,” Renji continued with a shrug. “Kinda’ far outta’ my way, y’know? Heh’.” He gave this weird nervous laugh that caused Ikkaku to look up, but Renji had already turned away.

“Mm,” he grunted in reply, their wondering at why he wanted to know about a hair salon falling on deaf ears. Eventually they gave up on their daydreaming senpai and left him alone, going back to their own conversation.

“So me an’ Ichigo went ta’ see _'_ _Gojira Vs. Mecha-Gojira’_ at a drive-in, right? Well, these people next to us were havin’ sex, like they’re rockin’ their squeaky-ass car like a mechanical bull, an' Ichigo, shit, he got _so angry, ‘_ cuz he can’t focus on the movie, _”_ Renji said through laughter and a big grin, trying to explain the hilarity of the moment in full detail. Hisagi listened with a small smirk.

“Oh geez, it was good, you shoulda’ seen ‘im. He doesn’t even get up. He just _throws_ his drink out the window an' it flies right inna’ their car, an' it nails the guy right in the back or somethin', because when he sits up, he’s all wet an' fizzy n' shit.” Hisagi snickered a little and Renji’s grin went even wider. “Listen, that’s not even the best part. Guess what they fuckin’ do then.”

“Uhh… get out and fight?”

“No. Listen, listen, this is good,” Renji said, spreading his hands apart and pausing for effect. “He doesn’t even say anything; he just gets into the front-seat _naked_ , an' fuckin' drives away!”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, Ichigo was pretty ticked. That was his last can of soda.”

“Heh’.”

Ikkaku didn’t bother commenting. It was kind of a running joke among them that Kurosaki still had kind of a temper and a shyness when it came to sex that he'd never grown out of. Although it was _much_ harder to get a rise out of him now that he'd matured, something like people having sex next to him at a drive-in was a sure way to tick him off.

“No one bothered us after that, though. Movie was pretty good,” Renji noted.

“Who won?”

“Gojira, of course! Mecha-Gojira got _trashed!_ ”

Ikkaku tuned them out after that, his thoughts drifting back to the man with the peacock feather again. Ever since Ikkaku had seen him in the hair salon the other day, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. There's somebody out there that he was actually interested in. The idea seemed so crazy, considering Ikkaku didn’t put forth much effort into growing friendships. He had only a few close friends, the same that he’d had for all of a decade now, and those friendships were halfway maintained due to the simple fact that they worked together and saw each other every day because of it. The idea of him meeting someone completely new and then wanting to get them into his life was really out of whack for him. What did people even do to start conversations with strangers? Find common interests?

But how on earth is he going to find something in common with a guy like that? He was so beautiful, and Ikkaku was… Well, he's not  _awful,_ but he worked in a garage, his hands were really callused, and there was always black gunk under his nails. He didn’t always smell so great either, come to think of it, and there was the matter of his shaved head. He wasn’t exactly what you’d call _conventionally attractive._ Perhaps that’s why he felt a little intimidated. The guy that had caught his eye seemed pretty unattainable, but that hadn’t stopped him from thinking about them all day.

Ikkaku didn’t even know his name, but all he’d thought of last night when he’d been trying to sleep were those quick fingers and those shiny blades, his pretty face, those long long legs… ah, and how easy it would be to throw him over his shoulder or bench-press him. Maybe he's being crazy, but he’d never met someone so… well, they hadn’t exactly even _met_ , had they . . . Ikkaku had no idea of the man’s real personality, the sound of his voice, his name, his likes and dislikes…

—but he's so damned curious.

He doesn't think too hard about why, since he never took the time to doubt his innermost desires — Instead he’d been puzzling over how he was supposed to get into that place so they could meet, because, of course, he has to go back! No other choice!

Ikkaku wanted to introduce himself, but the problem is that he doesn't want to be obvious about it, and he has no other real reason to go in there _besides_ the obvious — which is that there's a cute guy in there that he wants to talk to. He needs to think of some other excuse.

But what could _that_ be? It's not like he needs his hair cut, and he won't for the next… _ever._

Maybe it was one of those spa-places. Didn’t they do other things too? Didn’t they clean out the skin on your face and then put food on it? Ikkaku didn’t think his pride could handle that. He doesn't know what other options he has though.

He gave a long sigh. Maybe he’d just have to accept that it wasn’t meant to be — it had been a short, one-sided tryst in the rain after all; trying more would be pointless. Even so, he couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful he’d been and… just wanting to meet him and talk to him, even just for a minute.

Ikkaku wasn’t the only one having problems in their love life it seemed, for Renji began discussing how Rukia was causing trouble regarding his upcoming marriage. His partner wanted to sign the paperwork and have a reception and that's it, while Renji wished to have an actual wedding too — he sees the sentimental value in stuff like that. His fiance had eventually bent to his wishes, and had agreed at long last to go through with having a ceremony. Rukia was mad that he hadn’t spoken up about this sooner, because she had little time to get flowers and decorations now that they’d changed their minds.

“I love her, but I wish she’d give it a rest already. I’m okay with it just signing the paper like we'd originally planned, because the date is fixed and it’s pretty much too late, so…” Renji made a gesture as if to say she was stressing out for no reason. “No reason’a’ get all…”

“Yeah, women are screwy.”

“Hey now, she’s just excited for me,” Renji defended.

 _“Yeah,_ she’s excited! She probably thought you were going to die alone, since yer' always too chicken to make a move, yeah? How many years did it take you two to get together anyways? And how long after that did it take you to finally pop the question? Pfft. I bet you even put yer' head to the floor when you asked,” Hisagi scolded with a grimace, as if ashamed for him, “Dogeza-boy.”

“Ah, shut up,” Renji replied flippantly, grinning. “I think you’re just jealous.”

“Nah.”

“Listen, hey, listen,” Renji insisted, “Look at your jealous face! You only wish _you_ got ta' put your head ta' tha' floor for somebody ta' beg for their hand in marriage!”

“Dude, look, why're you even excited? You're the last guy I'd ever expect to be content in one place, and you know why they call it a ball-and-chain — marriage is _jail.”_

“I don’t see it that way! It means I get ta’ be with the one I love for my whole life! I'm gettin' too old ta' be playin' around — I gotta’ lock this shit down, Senpai, an’ you should too!”

“Yeah right, I’m never getting married. I’d rather be out with some babes,” Hisagi jeered with a wide teasing grin, at which Renji scoffed skeptically. “Too much Shuuhei ta’ go around, yeah?” Renji scoffed even louder and Ikkaku couldn’t help but join in.

“Sure, sure,” Renji muttered, smiling with an exasperated sigh. “Hey, you an’ Izuru are gonna’ be there, right? You guys have ta’ see me get hitched or I’ll have ta’ do it over again,” he joked. “It’s not like it’s actually gonna’ count anyways, so I could do it twice if I had to. Heh’.”

“Dude, not funny,” Ikkaku interjected dryly, looking up from his work. “Civil rights are no laughing matter.”

“Whatever, at least I can joke about it,” Renji insisted. “Isn’t it lucky we moved ta’ Shibuya?” Ikkaku grinned, giving him a thumbs up, which caused Renji to beam, pleased with himself.

“Not really,” Hisagi muttered, bursting his bubble. “You’re still not getting jack shit by getting ‘married,’” he growled, making air-quotes. Ikkaku glared over at him. God, would Hisagi just let Renji _have this_ for once? A wedding was a wedding, and even though it's goddamn tragic that it won't mean anything under the eye of the state, the wedding still meant something to _Renji —_  wasn’t that enough of a reason to do it?

“Hey, _hey!_ At least they’re gonna' let us get this fucking ‘proof-of-partnership’ license!” Renji stared Hisagi down, lips pursed. “That’s more than we’d get in any other part of the country.”

Hisagi rolled his eyes. “That’s not even considered equivalent to a _civil union,_ let alone being married _._ You guys could’ve done that  koseki shit and adopted each other, yeah? Would’ve gotten you just about as fuckin’ far.”

“ _Shut_ -” Renji sucked his teeth and threw down what he was holding with a _clang_ , glaring at Hisagi vehemently. “Shut up! Just shut up! Are you an’ Izuru comin’a’ my wedding or not?!”

“Mhm,” Hisagi hummed, lounging in the swivel chair on the far side of the garage, playing with a couple pieces of metal.

It was quiet for a minute, and the classic rock playing in the background echoed slightly in the acoustics of the cement warehouse. It always got Ikkaku fired up about his work — not to mention the red light they’d put over his work area. Although it had been a prank originally, Ikkaku had kept it, and after a while, the prostitute jokes had dwindled.

He glanced over to the clock, seeing that his shift ended in a couple more hours, and then Hisagi would drive him home. Ever since that fiasco with him having to walk all the way here, he’d been carpooling with Hisagi, since the guy was only a three-minute drive from Ikkaku’s place anyways. Might as well, y’know? It saved Ikkaku from having to take the bus every day until his bike got fixed, since Hisagi was a weirdo who insisted on driving himself instead of using public transport like a normal person.

He wiped his brow and tossed a rag onto a nearby table cluttered with tools and dirty file-folders. Grabbing a water bottle out of his locker, he took a swig and stowed it in the mini-fridge next to their steel filing cabinet. With that, he grabbed some masking tape and kicked his black creeper out of the way, propelling it under the sweet red sportscar he was taking a look at. He’d like a hotrod like this someday, maybe.

“Say, how're you an’ Izuru doin' anyways?” Renji ventured to ask, obviously not taking the hint that Hisagi and Kira had broken up, _again_. Even _Ikkaku_ had caught that, and he was fucking oblivious to that kind of shit. It had actually been really obvious, since it was a known fact that Hisagi had never considered long-term relationships to be jail after he’d met Kira. If he was trash-talking Renji’s wedding and saying he was never getting married, it looked like he and Izuru were on the fritz again.

“I haven’t heard from him in a while,” Renji commented obliviously. “At least, not since I visited him a month ago, an'… well…” He shook his head, swallowing. Ikkaku furrowed his brow slightly, glancing over at him when he went silent. Renji’s facial expression appeared quite uncomfortable. What was up with him?

Renji recovered from whatever it was almost immediately though, prompting Shuuhei again, “Did somethin' happen?”

“Eh,” Hisagi mumbled, taking a big swig of his beer and shrugging bitterly. “I guess.”

Renji caught on then and looked up, exasperated. “You guys split up _again?_ But things were going so well!”

“Pff,” Ikkaku spat. Yeah right. Those two had been literally _the_ sweetest couple for a long time, but the past eight or so months had been a fucking _mess._ Going well, his ass. More like they’d had make-up sex for a week and then realized it hadn’t solved any of their problems. _Again._

Hisagi raised his beer bottle a little in Renji’s direction, raising an eyebrow along with it, as if to say, ‘what, you need an explanation?’ When Renji continued glaring at him, actually putting his fists on his hips, Hisagi sighed, letting his head roll over the back of the chair. Ikkaku could see dark marks on his throat. Ugh, _someone’s_ love life was trashy as fuck.

“So last weekend Izuru pretty much told me he still has feelings for that sicko, right? He didn’t come out and say it, but he said enough, so I was like, ‘I can’t do this right now,’” Hisagi reenacted, his hands splaying inside his fingerless gloves, his jacket slipping over one shoulder, revealing his off-grey tank top strap. “I got up and left, booked a hotel room, and then went and danced with some babes.”  
  
Renji gave him an incredulous expression, as if to say, ‘c’mon, man, _really?’_

Ikkaku wasn’t at that point. He didn’t even believe Hisagi had done that shit. He’d probably just gone and crashed with that Muguruma guy, because let’s be serious, when had Hisagi ever had any real luck with women?

_‘Dancin’ with babes, my eye.’_

He knew better than to say anything on the matter, since Hisagi had been really cranky lately, and Ikkaku was _not_ in the mood to pick shit, actually. If he got hit in the face while he was kicking Hisagi’s ass, he’d look like a vagrant when he met that cute feather guy.

Anyways, Renji seemed to buy that ridiculous stuff, because he was giving Hisagi that are-you-fucking- _kidding-_ me look. “C’mon, Senpai!” He groaned in annoyance, throwing a hand up and letting his face scrunch tightly with frustration. “ _Seriously?”_

Hisagi raised his hands, lips pursed. “Hey, I had to get out of there, man. I can’t keep dealing with this all the time. I’m losing weight over it.” Now that Hisagi mentioned it, Ikkaku could see that his cheekbones seemed sharper, and besides that, he looked fucking _tired._ “It's _fucked up_ , and it can't be unfucked. Not anymore. If you know what’s good, you’ll drop it, Abarai.”

Renji’s glare became more despairing and mournful, his shoulders slumping, which Ikkaku could understand, because Renji and Kira were buds — besides that, Renji had spent the bulk of his adult life with those two as a couple. Of course it was hard to see them splitting up.

Hisagi then gave a long grueling sigh, grimacing a little, expression softening as he cast his eyes away. “I mean, I love’m’,” he said somewhat tenderly, but with an undertone of exhaustion, “but I have feelings _too_ , yeah? Yer' always talking about how _he_ has to be feeling, well what about _me?_ What about how he makes _me_ feel?”

“How can you say that?” Renji growled, going straight back to upset and accusatory. “How can you make this about you?”

Hisagi ignored him, waving a hand. “I can’t keep going on like this with'm'  _every other month._ It isn't his fault, _but he’s messed up._ I think he’s beyond saving.”

“Hey now, you shouldn’t say that about 'im, Senpai. Izuru’s a nice guy,” Renji said with a scolding tone. “Listen, you should be more loyal. If you were more supportive when things get rough, Izuru wouldn’t be half as neurotic as he is. What about _that_ , huh?” he prodded. “C’mon, listen, what about _that?”_

Ikkaku wrinkled his nose, rolling his eyes. Fuck Renji and his healthy functioning relationship. What did he know?

Hisagi seemed to agree, because he and Ikkaku both scoffed at the younger guy. Renji frowned in earnest at being singled out. He grimaced, shaking his head. “You two're' just pissed because I know what I’m talking about.” Ikkaku flipped him off. Renji sulked for a moment.

“Whatever,” Hisagi dismissed. “The point is, he and I are on a break. I’m a single man once again,” he said with a wicked grin, sticking his tongue out and flicking it. Renji shook his head. Ikkaku did too. Ever since Kira had gotten his head messed with by that Ichimaru guy, Hisagi’s personality had completely turned around. He’d used to be such a nice guy, but now he had a fucking _attitude problem._  They could both tell it was rooted in pain and that all he wanted was for Izuru to get better, but that wasn’t going to happen until Hisagi cleaned up his act, which wouldn’t happen until Kira went back to how he’d been, which wouldn’t happen until he had someone to truly comfort him, and Hisagi wasn’t going to _do_ that. It was just this endless cycle of absolute garbage.

“You ain’t a bachelor,” Renji said lowly, not even looking at Shuuhei, because he didn’t _quite_ have the balls to challenge him like that while looking him in the eye, “You’re a _dog_. Leavin’ Izuru every time he’s low an’ fuckin’ around ta’ make yourself feel better… but you go crawlin’ right back once you’re done, don’t you. Ya' know, one day he’s gonna’ be stronger and he _won’t_ take you back.” There was a loud crash as Hisagi threw the nearest object at Renji, which just so happened to be a tire-iron. Renji ducked and shouted, “Hey, _hey!_ Watch it! Don’t hit the bike!”

 

 

“What- _ever,_ Renji!” Hisagi punctuated, agitated. “Tch!” He turned towards Ikkaku then, gulping down some of his beer. “You don't know what I've got to deal with. I’m single if I want to be.” Renji zipped his lips, but his face showed just what he thought of that.

“I’m doin’ fine,” Shuuhei asserted raspily, as if to dissuade what he thought his kouhai was thinking, but in doing so, he triggered an attack and dissolved into a fit of coughing and wheezing, eventually ending it by shakily grabbing his coffee and gulping some down after it got so bad he began gagging.

“You ain’t fine, fool,” Ikkaku grumbled to himself.

“‘M perfectly fine,” Hisagi eeped, barely able to get the words out as he swallowed down whatever irritant had triggered it that time. He coughed a couple more times, wheezing a bit, and then finally calming after another slam of coffee.

“Ey’, what about you though, huh?” Hisagi asked, tone lighter. “Seein’ anyone?”

“Hm?” Ikkaku replied absently, only half-listening, focusing on perfectly taping off a section of the hood of the sports car. Hisagi muttered something about not-having-sex-syndrome, but Ikkaku pretended he hadn’t heard. He swore, if Hisagi said that around him _one_ more time they were gonna' have a problem.

“Are you _seeing_ anyone?” Hisagi asked again, louder this time, with the obvious sexual undertone of ‘seeing someone naked.’

“Still single.”

“ _Hah!”_ Renji interjected loudly, “Screw you two, my life is _awesome!”_

“Fuck off, lover-boy,” Ikkaku dismissed with an eye roll, which was just his own way of being glad Renji was happy without sounding like too much of a sap. Renji totally got it too, because he grinned like the little bastard he was. Ikkaku smirked, turning back to his work, scoffing with he heard Hisagi get upset.  
  
Judging from the way he got testy and aggressive, insulting Renji and his fiancé, Hisagi was more messed up over this Kira issue than he liked to seem. It was only natural that he and Ikkaku would strike out at Renji with jealousy once in a while, considering Renji brought up the fact that he was engaged and that his life was perfect pretty much every day, but Hisagi seemed to take it personally. Ikkaku though, he was happy for Renji and everything, but it still just brought his attention to the fact that when he went back to his apartment every night, no one waited for him. No one greeted him when he came home, there was no one to eat dinner with, no one to talk about his day to. Ikkaku was content living alone, but when Renji always brought up the fact that he was engaged, it made it very strange to think about. His friends were getting _married,_ and here he was, living alone.

Ikkaku was twenty-eight. He still judged himself to be a pretty young guy, but his best friend was getting _married,_ and that just put his life in perspective. Maybe it was about time _he_ found someone too, but… where was he going to meet that long-term partner? Where did people _go_ to meet other people anyways? _Bars?_ Was that _really_ the best place to find spouse-material? . . . Ikkaku had sort of always half thought that he’d meet this other person through a stroke of luck or destiny, but he was only two years from thirty now. Maybe it was time to start actively searching, but where was he supposed to look for someone that amazing, huh?

Renji had met his squeeze in school and Hisagi and Kira had been best buds for ages beforehand, but Ikkaku wasn’t in college anymore and spent pretty much all of his time either working, at home, the gym, or at the bar. He never really met anybody new, having a close-knit group of friends that he didn’t bother trying to expand. Ikkaku just didn’t know how to go out and find someone. He’d never learned how to flirt. The last time he’d gone on a date had been like… what, his junior year of college? That was _how_ many years ago now?

Life had just happened and gotten in the way of dating, but it had been _out_ of the way for a while now. Maybe Ikkaku had just forgotten what it was to be lonely. It wasn’t like he’d sworn off dating or anything either; he just didn’t put in the effort towards getting to know people past face-value anymore. It's like he’d been looking inside of a full fridge every few minutes but had never seen anything that was worth taking out and making. The problem was that now that he’d seen something that looked like it might taste good and had taken it out of the fridge, the directions to cook it were in English, and his English skills were real shitty.

That happened to people, right?

Renji kept this smug shit-eating grin on his face, only getting heated when Shuuhei said something disparaging about his lover. Ikkaku rolled his eyes, watching as the two began to tussle halfheartedly and hit one another, knocking shit on the ground. Kenpachi stuck his head out of his office to shout at them, and they got back to work, still cussing each other out for several minutes before they finally gave it a rest.

Renji squatted back down next to the Harley he was working on, his ponytail ratty and matted with grease and dirt from having rolled on the floor. He could just tie it up in a bun when he was working underneath a car on a creeper to keep his hair from dragging on the dirty ground, but no, the ponytail or the braid or the inbetween _had_ to stay, apparently. Ikkaku shook his head, tearing off another strip of masking tape, sticking it down. He wondered if Renji would wear his hair like that to his wedding, the dumb shit.

The thought of the wedding and hair made Ikkaku think back to that woman who had been getting her hair done at that place… and that man. Shit, he just couldn’t stop coming back to that, no matter how he tried to avoid it.

The easiest thing to do would be to just go in and get a haircut, but obviously that wasn’t an option, and posed a huge dilemma.

Some part of him wished he’d had the courage to go inside that place. Even if it had gone horribly, at least that would’ve been a starting point. After all, his specialty was damage-control, not diplomacy. However, he somehow understood that his usual methods wouldn’t work in this situation. It wasn’t so bad storming into a bar and punching a dude, but walking up to a cute guy and asking for his phone number seemed damn near impossible.

How had he asked out ladies in the past? Ikkaku tried to think . . .

Hisagi lit up a cigarette, ignoring Renji who immediately began complaining about the smell and annoying him by spouting facts about lung cancer — which had come from Ichigo, no doubt. Shuuhei just morosely stared at his phone background, which was a picture of Izuru after he’d fallen asleep at the Christmas party two years ago with tinsel in his hair, if he remembered correctly.

Ikkaku sighed. Maybe it was better for him to stay single. It was safer. He wouldn’t want to end up like _that_ , now would he.

He looked to Renji, who had given up in his crusade to get his senpai to put out his cigarette yet again. Now he was just humming and bouncing his shoulders slightly to the music playing overhead, still squatting in front of that bike. That little shit was always so damn cheerful because of his home-life.

Ikkaku then smirked when Hisagi turned his phone off with a long sigh, aiming the smoky exhale up at the ceiling. Yeah, staying safe would prevent heartache like that, but things don’t always work out that way though, do they? You can’t always avoid those fate-decided meetings and pick and choose whether or not you develop feelings. You couldn’t choose whether they were there or not, but you _could_ choose what to do with them.

Ikkaku looked between his two friends. This love business was risk verses payoff, huh?…

He could work with that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ikkaku just can't help but wander back in to confront that cutie, but in so doing, he's distracted by the guy's coworker - what's her game exactly . . . ? Oh shit.

It was raining today too, and damn, Ikkaku’s bike, and damn, no bus fare! Awful, awful, _awful_ luck!

Well, no actually — _n_ _ot_ awful. Coincidentally _useful._

With a sense of trepidation, Ikkaku took the same route he’d taken last time. He’d thought about this all week and he was sick of it. He was a man, right? He was a grown-ass adult, and he was fucking doing something about this. He was going to go into the store like it or not, and he wasn’t going to leave until he said something to that guy — so _there._

There it was, across the street, still looking so cozy and welcoming and ready for him to go in there and kick ass at chatting up that babe. Ikkaku crossed the road and leaned against the wall, trying to work up some steam. He wasn’t gonna’ go in all pathetic and nervous. He just had to build some ‘fuck-yeah’ attitude about this, just like he did with every other obstacle in life.

Might take a minute.

Ikkaku was in luck! He could see in the window, and that man was working again today. He was equally excited and nauseated by that. He didn’t know if he was ready yet. Maybe a minute more.

Ikkaku let out a slow breath . . . There he was . . . There was that cutie that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about, so close by.

He watched as one of the workers got their things and left the store, the other wandering back into what looked like an employee lounge, leaving the one man all alone with a single customer for the moment. Ikkaku took a breath, standing there and staring. This was his opportunity. There would never be a better time than now.

At that moment, a fat water droplet fell from somewhere and hit him right in the eye. Hissing and wiping at his eye socket hard, his wet sleeve just squeezed more water onto his face as he pressed on it. There you go, that's his excuse, right there.

He was soaked. The store was dry and warm. That was his reason to go in. He was ‘waiting out the storm.’ It was so simple _._  He didn’t have to get a haircut or _anything_. He just had to find some reason to talk to the worker while he was inside and he’d be golden.

Ikkaku put his hood up and ducked inside the store, not giving himself the opportunity to chicken out. He just had to _do_ it, right? Just get the ball rolling, just get started. That’s all.

The door was one of those doors that had bells chime when it was opened, which drew attention to him immediately. “Welcome,” he greeted absently, focused on his work. Ikkaku shifted when the customer’s gaze turned onto him, but he plopped himself into a chair in the waiting area, wet clothes and all, and just sat there, staring back challengingly until that set of eyes turned away again. That’s right. Ikkaku could be here if he wanted and no one could say otherwise.

As the immediate thrill of being in a place he had no business being faded, Ikkaku looked decided that he’d stall for time while the pretty guy worked on that customer. He would talk to him when there were no distractions. No need to bother him while he was working.

Plus that gave him more time to calm the fuck down. 

Picking one of the magazines and propping his leg up, Ikkaku flicked it open, looking through the pages mindlessly. He easily found one or two sections for men, pursing his lips slightly as he browsed with a sort of detached interest.

Growing bored after a while, he looked through the ladies’ haircuts for a longer time, as there were more and were more interesting to look at. Eventually that grew tiresome too, so Ikkaku tossed the magazine back onto the pile, put his chin on his hand, and let his gaze travel upwards towards the cute guy.

 

 

Ikkaku ducked his head down again quickly when the man glanced his way in the mirror.

Heart pounding, Ikkaku tried to think of a good opener, something he could say when he finally got the chance. Maybe just be honest?

He peeked up once more, only to dart his gaze away once more when he thought he'd been seen again. Ikkaku put his hand up to block his eyes as he leaned down slightly towards a magazine he was pretending to read. He then spent all of the next five minutes staring and trying to look like he _wasn’t_ staring.

God damn, he was too old to be doing this ridiculous shit. All the same, the pathetic feeling of being an utter loser didn't stop him from peeping through his hand-shield.

Hmm. Those ridiculous lavender skinny jeans sure made his butt look good. He's got really nice legs too, like, what the fuck—

“Excuse me.”

Ikkaku startled at the voice, realizing someone was blocking his view slightly. His gaze snapped upwards as a woman with the biggest breasts he’d ever seen stood in front of him, her feet spread shoulder-width apart, hands on her hips.

“Uh,” he muttered, looking up to her face once he got over the fact that her chest was so _out_ _there_ that it actually cast a shadow. “Yeah?” he asked, confused as to what she could want with him. Had he taken her seat?

“Do you have an appointment?” she asked, her voice congenial, but her eyes saying ‘I’m-judging-you-based-on-your-response.’ Ikkaku suddenly remembered that he’d seen her in here the last time he’d been outside the store. She must work here too. Why the hell was she addressing him like that then?

“No,” Ikkaku replied bluntly, not budging from where he was sitting. Was she the manager? Was she going to try to kick him back out into the rain? Geez! He was just minding his own business and admiring her coworker! Speaking of, she’d _totally_ interrupted him!

“Oh, so you’re a _walk-in?”_ the woman then went on to say, with a tone that was just sarcastic enough to let him know that he sounded like an idiot. Walk-in, was that… um… That was… Well, he _had_ just walked in to the store, so…

“Uhh…”

“You want me to give you a trim right now? I’m free,” she offered with a saucy wink, chewing on her gum zealously.

Ikkaku just stared for a moment, wondering what the wink had been for, because he hadn’t caught any kind of joke right there. He then clearly said, “No thanks,” and leaned around her curvy figure to try to get a look at that man again. Geez, her hips were in the way! She was even throwing her weight to one side now to block his view even more. She must be doing it on purpose. Like wow, _rude._

He cleared his throat a little and glared up at her as if to say ‘we’re done here,’ not wanting anything to do with her, but his typical antisocial displays of aggression didn’t seem to be working on her. Usually it scared people off, but she either wasn’t picking up on his ‘fuck-off’ attitude or was ignoring it.

To his dismay, she was now following his gaze, turning slightly but not moving her feet, twisting her voluptuous figure in such a way that it would make most men fall on their knees. However, all that flashed through Ikkaku’s mind was that she’d caught him staring across the room and was now going to figure everything out. He hissed “No, don’t look!” in a panicked tone.

It immediately became clear to him that she'd caught on — judging by the knowing smirk that spread across her face. It's not like it was hard to figure out. There was only one thing over there that he could’ve been looking at, and that was her coworker. Aw shit. She’d better not mess up his flow or embarrass him!

“So,” she then drawled, turning back to him with a devilish smile that made him break out in a cold sweat. “What _are_ you here for, then?”

Ikkaku crossed his arms with a humph and a sulk. Damn woman. She thought she knew what was going on here, but she clearly didn’t . . . Actually, she knew _exactly_ what was going on, and it fucking pissed him off. His motives seemed embarrassing now that someone else knew about them. He still sure as hell wasn’t going to admit anything out loud to her; he wouldn’t give her that satisfaction. He had his pride. “I’m just waiting out the storm,” he muttered.

_‘So there.’_

“Oh yes?” she said with false interest, obviously digging for information. “I’m sure we have something you’re looking for though. And you _are_ looking, aren’tcha’. _Really closely._ ” Ikkaku’s cheeks reddened as she conspicuously flicked her eyes to her coworker and back to him. “Might as well pass the time making yourself pretty. What do you feel like?”

“Lady, what’s with the third-degree? Lay off.” This woman knew nothing about quality customer service. Ikkaku could understand people having a shitty day and being tense, but when you’re on the job, you’ve gotta’ shove that aside and be pleasant, but did Ikkaku get that from her?   _No._   No keigo, no bowing, and no courtesy whatsoever. True, he wasn’t here for any real services, but even so, Ikkaku was left with a very casual impression of her… even though he got the feeling that she was being casual because she knew _exactly what he was doing, checking out her coworker._

Not to mention, he kind of looked like a bum right now, soaked to the bone and leaking on the furniture like a fool.

Geez, but would she just get out of here before she blew his cover? _Eesh!_

“Go away from me. Can’t a guy have some peace?” he groused, scowling and sinking down in his seat, arms crossed petulantly, but she wouldn’t let it rest.

“Okay, I can kind of see what you’re after. I’ll help you out,” she said with another wink and meaningful flick of her eyes to the other man . . . What was she planning exactly?

“Up for a hair-cut?”

“Uh, I really don’t-” Before Ikkaku could say more, this woman, _damn_ her, turned and called out in a very loud and noticeable voice, attracting the attention of the other employee, _the cute guy_ that Ikkaku was in a nervous game of look-away with!

“Yumichika! Take this one!”

Ikkaku clammed up as he saw that pretty head lift and those eyes turn on them. Shit.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rather than waiting to initiate conversation on his own terms, that damn hairdresser caught the feather guy's attention, and now Ikkaku is on a one-way train to absolute humiliation... or so he thinks.

“I’m going on my break now, Yumichika! Take this one, will you?”

That traitor! Ikkaku froze up, hysteria beginning to set in as the man’s attention was drawn to them. This woman had tricked him! She was- she- _Shit!_ Ikkaku was screwed! He wasn’t prepared! No, no, no!

“I’m Matsumoto Rangiku by the way,” she introduced with a grin, turning back to him for a moment. “Good luck, hun.” With that, she sat down at the reception desk and started fixing her makeup, leaving Ikkaku to deal with the mess she'd hurled him into.

Had she thought she’d been doing him a favor?! Fuck, this was so embarrassing!

“Alright,” the man said somewhat absently in reply as he dragged himself away from shining a mirror that had gotten hairspray misted over it. When he saw Ikkaku in his pathetically wet state, he did a double-take that made Ikkaku feel both sickened and excited. This was it.

‘ _Hi.’_ That’s all he had to say. He knows that — but the moment he opened his mouth, he was cut off, and his set-up and premise of being a completely normal, confident, assertive guy was so far out the window that he might as well be looking through frosted glass at midnight.

“Oh my goodness, you’re _soaked_ ,” the cutie said; Yumichika. His name was Yumichika. Ikkaku half-contemplated making a run for it while he still had his pride. Shit, what does he say?

“Uh- I was out,” he started, and damn if speaking had never been harder in his entire life, “out- out in the storm,” he stuttered, mentally smacking himself. Oh, real smooth.

Yumichika didn’t seem bothered by his broken speech, still staring, seeming horrified that he was such a mess, so much so that he forgot to speak to him like a service worker should.

“Did you not have an umbrella?” Yumichika asked, frowning slightly and assessing his face, which made Ikkaku feel like tugging his hood down all the way to hide. Ugh, he wished the ground would swallow him up so he could just hide the fact that he even _existed_. He wanted to leave. He wanted to get _out_ of here.

No. _Strength!_ He was grown, wasn’t he?! A grown man, and grown men fight their battles through to the end! Zaraki had taught him that!

“Uh, no . . . I forgot,” Ikkaku muttered, chin dipping down slightly. Fuck, he couldn’t even make himself look Yumichika in the eye. This is a lot harder than he thought.

“Well, you definitely got wet. I suppose that means I won’t have to wash your hair for your trim then, ah… okyaku-san.” Yumichika looked up to him with a small smile, and Ikkaku shifted uncomfortably.

“It’s Ikkaku,” he said shortly, scowling at the ground. He probably seemed like a real bastard, glaring at nothing like this, but he was so pissed at his own nervousness that he couldn’t help but default to what he was more comfortable with, and that was to act like an asshole.

“An’ I don’t want a haircut,” he spat. “She was just screwin’ around.”

He heard a snort from behind him, but he just grit his teeth and ignored it. He’d deal with her later. He was gonna’ _kill_ that woman. She thought this was _funny?_  This was her way of _helping_ him? _Backstabbing-mutinous-traitor!_

“You don’t want your hair cut?” Yumichika asked.

“What _did_ you come in for, then? Hair, nails, facial?” he asked, waiting for a reply. Ikkaku nearly choked when the last word was conspicuously stressed. “I can just blow-dry you free of charge, if you like.” Ikkaku _did_ choke then, eyes bugging out of his head. Was he- Wait, was Yumichika… _hitting_ on him?

“You’re… dripping all over the place,” Yumichika noted, and it became clear then that he _was_ doing it on purpose. Ikkaku felt like he’d been smacked on the cheek! Fuck, what did he say?! What was he supposed to _say_ to this?!

Ikkaku wasn’t easily embarrassed. It was nearly _impossible_ to shame him or wound his pride, because he just didn’t give a shit about anything. It's not like talking about sex is the problem either, because whatever, he's an adult. But being flirted with was a no-go. He never knows how to handle it, and usually he just escapes through displays of antisocial aggression, but this time he doesn't know what to do.

When he didn’t say anything soon enough, Yumichika made a tutting noise as if he were scolding a bad child. “What a hideous mess you are. You should let me clean you up.” He was looking at the floor around Ikkaku’s feet, which was lucky, because Ikkaku was making quite an… _interesting_ expression, still trying to keep from coughing his lungs up.  
  
It took him a full ten seconds for him to think of an appropriate response. It wasn’t helping that that jerk Rangiku was back there laughing her head off at his expense.

“Uh, no… No, that’s alright,” Ikkaku said carefully, getting the words out just fine. It was easier if he didn’t look directly _at_ Yumichika, which was hard, because Ikkaku was a little taller than him, and in those rare moments when Ikkaku felt insecure, he either looked down or away, which didn’t help cut eye-contact between them.

“I just came in ta’…”

Why _had_ he come in? What was his actual plan anyways? Here he was, soaked to the bone, lookin’ like a hot mess, and there Yumichika was, so composed and clean and… and… _How the fuck was Ikkaku supposed to ask him out like this?!_

All thoughts of being honest suddenly felt impossible, and nothing would come out of his mouth for a minute. Heat slapped him in the face in a heavy wave. Shit, he needs air.

Ikkaku knew it should be simple but for the love of god, he felt so fucking stupid right now.

“Uh, well I was just around, and… I thought that, uh…” Ikkaku reached into his hood, scratching the back of his neck, soaking his hand again. “While I was in the rain, I walked by, an’… well…”

“You’re shivering,” Yumichika interrupted. Well, not really. Ikkaku had gone silent for quite a few moments; Yumichika was perfectly within his rights to think it was his turn to speak. “Take this off,” he demanded, taking the edge of Ikkaku’s soaked hoodie like he was going to pull it up. Ikkaku jumped back immediately, alarmed. _Yumichika was touching him —_

And what the fuck, were these people crazy?!

“What?! Are you nuts?” he snapped, causing Yumichika to frown tersely. Ikkaku bit his lip, trying to ease back on the volume, but he maintained his scowl and his defensive hold on his clothes.

“What a rotten temper,” Yumichika noted mildly with a toss of his hair. Ikkaku’s shoulders sunk hesitantly and he let his harsh expression relax a little more.

“You don’t jus’ grab a man’s clothes like that without any _warnin’,”_ he grouched, finding it was a lot easier to speak when he was irritated. That wasn’t a good thing though. He didn’t want Yumichika’s first impression of him to be that he was an angry violent person, no matter how true that may be.

“You’re going to catch your death,” Yumichika countered, remaining calm in the face of his rudeness. “Take that coat off and stand under a dryer,” he offered graciously, gesturing towards a chair at the far wall with both hands.

Ikkaku physically couldn’t speak at that point, and — not wanting to look like any more of an idiot — decided 'what the hell' and peeled his hoodie off, which was difficult, considering it was pretty much stuck to him. He heard a whistle from behind him and practically hissed at that horrible woman, who was cackling away where she sat at her desk. Yeah, he knew his t-shirt was probably wet too and see-through, but that was no reason to make dog-calls. Was she out to make him look like a damn fool? What was her game?!

Yumichika was noticeably silent as he struggled to get his hoodie over his head, and when Rangiku laughed once more, Ikkaku had just about had it. He could only take so much, and this was his limit. He whipped the sweater over his head and scowled at her, seeing her face melt into an expression of utter shock.

Ah shit. He’d taken his hood off.

He bit the inside of his cheek and turned back to Yumichika, staring at the floor like his life depended on it. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he looked up to take a peek at Yumichika’s reaction. The poor guy looked like he’d been slapped in the face.

“Oh,” Yumichika said in surprise, staring at him. Then he blinked a few times, mouth opening and closing; he seemed embarrassed. “I didn’t… Oh, I’m so sorry. Of _course_ you don’t want a hair-cut.”

Ikkaku looked away like he’d been burned, the air that was hitting the wet skin of his head almost searing him from how cold it seemed. His ears hurt and his nose burned, and he just felt all around _awful._

Finally, when the silence seemed thick enough to cut and the shame had long since turned to anger — when Ikkaku was _this_ close to storming out of there, he felt a hand on his wrist. Startled, he jolted slightly, but let the grip stay there, eyes focusing on it. His mouth went completely dry as he saw Yumichika’s perfect hand holding his arm. He looked up in surprise as he was dragged over to one of the hair-dryers. The heels of those same hands hit Ikkaku’s wet torso and made him sit down in the chair and the lid was brought down onto his head.

He would’ve said something, but he still didn’t trust his voice not to do something weird if he tried to speak, so he just sat there tensely. This thing made him feel sort of like he was in a space pod. Would this burn his scalp? He held still, not letting the plastic touch his skin anywhere, and gripped the arms of the chair tightly.

Ikkaku suspiciously watched as Yumichika leaned above him, splaying his torso as he stretched to switch on some buttons. He could hear Rangiku saying something from across the store, but couldn’t make out the words because of the weird rebound from inside that hood. Yumichika paused, turning back to her for one weird moment in which Ikkaku didn’t know what was going on. Apparently they were exchanging glances or something, but all Ikkaku could focus on was this small patch of exposed skin on Yumichika’s stomach where his shirt had ridden up and puckered, letting him see in between the buttons. His toes curled up inside of his wet boots.

Suddenly, a gust of comforting warmth hit his head and neck, a loud buzz filled in his ears, and a magazine was slapped into his hand. Yumichika plopped down in the chair next to him and began filing his own nails, one leg cattily perched over the other, bouncing away.

Ikkaku’s shoulders untensed and flopped down as he stared forward, blinking.

. . . What the fuck had just happened?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ikkaku has a long ways to go with this whole asking-someone-out thing. Maybe its time he got some outside advice.

Ikkaku just sat there under the dryer silently, his arm resting uncomfortably close to Yumichika’s. What with the way Yumichika fluttered those dark eyes and let his body lie just slightly inside his personal space, Ikkaku was sure there was something physically wrong with his vocal chords, because for the life of him, he couldn't speak.

Ahh, Yumichika sure looked nice filing his nails like that and bouncing his slim leg. Ikkaku didn’t think he’d ever laid eye on a prettier picture, and it got him feeling really strange.

It's not like he doesn't enjoy looking at nice things. Yumichika was _so_ nice however that it fucking _put him on edge._ He felt like he had to _say something,_ but his throat was closed for maintenance or some shit, so he just sat there like a bump on a log, scowly and grouchy.

The worst part was that as much as he was pretending to ignore Yumichika, Yumichika was doing it right back, except it really seemed like Yumichika genuinely wasn't paying him any attention. Again, it made him want to say something, but what did he say after that awkward introduction they’d just had?

But wow, he was  _really_ pretty. Ikkaku was in way over his head here — that's right. He let his eyes slide over to Yumichika again… and, okay, yep. _Yep_.  
  


 

  
Yeah, it was just safer not to look. Every time he did, he lost his nerve to speak. What a dumbass he was. He’d spent years scoffing at men who got all spoony around women, and here he was doing the same exact thing! Why was this so hard? Why, oh why was he such a loser?

He wasn't usually intimidated easily. There were only a select few situations that could get under his skin. Having to bow to someone he didn’t respect, for example. Another one that got him was being around people when they were crying; that made him sweaty and awkward to the point of _physical pain_. The worst one was being made a third wheel — any situation involving flirting was much the same.

Ikkaku with an attitude could ford a mountain. Ikkaku with a crush couldn’t make it halfway. Hell, that guy would hide in the cabin at the bottom and make plans to go home, even if he very much wanted to stab a flag into the top of that mountain and take in the vista.

_Why hadn’t he dated more in college, damnit?! Then this wouldn’t be so hard!_

Here he was next to his crush, _right_ next to him, and yet he didn’t know how to take the next step. How had he asked out his last girlfriend? . . . He can't remember. 

Ikkaku didn’t really know how to make the first move on his own anymore. Besides, he was still a bit stunned at what had taken place here. He was being hair-dried in a hair-parlor with a hair-stylist next to him, but had no hair. This all felt very surreal.

. . . The fuck does he do now?

He stared forward at Rangiku where she was still sitting at the counter, his expression stricken with woe as he silently begged for help. She’d wanted to help him before, right? She can't be so cruel as to make him suffer alone?

Rather than being helpful, she just pointed to her scalp and then splayed her hand incredulously, making a what-the-fuck face. Ikkaku glared at her. He had no hair, okay? What, hadn’t she seen a guy with a shaved head before?

She made the Jackie-Chan meme gesture, and Ikkaku just flipped her off, seething with rage. Yumichika looked up at that moment, causing Ikkaku to freeze and then shove his hands in his armpits, sitting back and crossing his own legs.  
  
Looking up, Rangiku was biting back a laugh behind her hand, her shoulders up around her ears. _Fuuuck_.

After a few minutes of peace, in which Ikkaku’s shoulders and collar began to dry, he caught Rangiku making some vigorous sideways head motions. His brow creased. Why was she doing that? Finally, her body made this exasperated motion, chest heaving, and she thrust both of her arms out to her left, but there was nothing there. She smacked her hand over her eyes, shaking her head.

Finally, she directly pointed at Ikkaku and then jerked her thumb to her left, being his right. Then she held both her hands out flat and made a ‘well?’ expression. Ikkaku startled, realizing what she meant. ‘ _Say something to him.’_

She’d been trying to help him this entire time in her own overly pushy way... and to be honest, she _had_ gotten them pretty much alone together and had made them talk. Her methods had sort of worked so far. Now she just wanted him to say something, but what to say, what to say?

“Uh, so,” Ikkaku muttered uncertainly, but Yumichika didn’t even look up, which made Ikkaku’s toes curl in anxiety. “How long’ve’ you worked here?” he got out, no stuttering, no weird vocal cracks, a completely harmless and normal sentence.

Yumichika didn’t answer or look up. Ikkaku started to get frustrated, but he tried one more time. “This looks like a pretty nice place ta' work all day. I work in an auto-garage, so this seems really… sterile, by comparison.” There, perfectly normal and friendly. He was actually pretty pleased with himself.  
  


No reply. Yumichika didn’t so much as bat an eye at him.  
  


Fuck, he was trying pretty hard here, but Yumichika was just going to _ignore_ him like his? What was he supposed to do now? . . . Ikkaku looked up to Rangiku in defeat, lip jutting out as if to say ‘I told you so,’ but she just gave an exasperated eye roll, pointing upward. Ikkaku tried to look up, and hit his nose on the edge of the hairdryer. Oh, duh. It was still on. Yumichika couldn’t hear him.

Ducking out of the chair and trying to turn it off, Ikkaku stabbed at the buttons with a frown. Damn thing ruining his flow.

Yumichika immediately got up and helped him, smiling. Ikkaku took a reflexive step back at the proximity.

He fanned his shirt slightly, feeling that it was damp along the bottom still, but dry for the most part. Why was Yumichika staring at him then? He looked down at his chest to see if there was a leaf stuck there or something, but there was nothing.

“Uh, thanks . . . I feel a lot better,” Ikkaku said, and he did. He wasn’t so cold anymore.

“So, what did you actually come in for?” Yumichika wondered aloud, looking him in the eye, which intimidated Ikkaku greatly. Shit, he was too pretty to look at directly. Fuck, _fuck_ , Ikkaku was screwed. It probably showed right on his face that he had a hopeless crush.

‘ _Say something, Madarame, god damnit!’_

“Uh…”

What the hell was wrong with him? Could someone _slap him, please?_

This is _so_ not him. He was one of those strong-silent types who was stoic and grumpy most of the time and only got excited for alcohol, gambling, fighting, or a combination of the three. He didn’t get tongue-tied, he didn’t get nervous, he didn’t get all hyper and jittery around a pretty face. Seriously, this was so far from the real Ikkaku that if Hisagi and Renji were here, he’d bet his life that they’d be laughing their scrawny asses off right now.

“Uhh,” he began, shaking his head a little, trying to find an appropriate response. “Um…” His eyes drifted around desperately, and in his panic to remember his made-up reason, he found himself lying to cover his ass.

“I was just tryin’a’ get some perfume.” Yumichika raised an eyebrow, nodding. His expression was still pleasant, but his eyes had unmistakably hardened.

Shit, no! He didn’t want Yumichika to think he had a girlfriend! Ikkaku freaked out a little, scrambling for the right words, looking back to Rangiku for help. She was staring at him as if wondering how he could _be_ so awkward.

“For, uh, as a gift… to my… my friend,” he finished lamely. Yeah okay, sure, that was a rotten lie. He knew it _sounded_ like a lie too, which made it even worse. Ikkaku looked up for help again, hoping Rangiku would rescue him or something.

Ikkaku watched in horror as Yumichika’s eyes followed his gaze to Rangiku and back, a thoughtful expression of sudden recognition coming over his face.

After a few moments of silence, Ikkaku asked, “Do you guys take credit?” in defeat, because he had his cards, just not any cash in his wallet, and also because he thought he’d embarrassed himself enough for one day and was ready to go home and punch himself in the face.

“Yes,” Yumichika said. “Rangiku will help you find what you need.” There was a coy smile on his face, and for a moment, Ikkaku almost had an aneurysm, because Yumichika fucking _winked._  Then Ikkaku was being pushed towards Rangiku by a hand at the small of his back.

Ikkaku looked back at Yumichika for a moment, about to say something else, but he let it fall short again and allowed his mouth to close. A deep sense of dissatisfaction set in.

Yumichika just walked away, and Ikkaku decided it was time to give up. He’d ruined his chance. He’d made too much of an idiot of himself for Yumichika to like him now. Damn, that was actually a real downer.

There were plenty of fish in the sea, sure, but the gorgeous dangerous beta fish had swum off and Ikkaku was pretty disappointed and was left feeling like a fucking barnacle on a rock.

“Okay,” he said then, although Yumichika wasn’t listening. He drifted over to the counter, watching Yumichika get back to cleaning. Turning to the counter-top, Rangiku took him to the perfume shelf and grabbed his wrist without asking, spritzing different scents onto his arm and forcing him to smell-test them. Ikkaku just grunted in response to each, which she deciphered as affirmative or otherwise from his tone of voice. He just blandly stared forward, in a mental whirlwind.

He felt like a fucking fool. Who the hell got so flustered and shy like that at his age? I mean, who _does_ that? Ikkaku scowled as Rangiku shoved his arm up under his nose again. That had never happened to him before. He didn’t know if he’d ever been so mortified in all his life.

He hadn't really realized until this exact moment that he'd never tried flirting before, and had never met someone he'd wanted to try flirting with — he hadn't expected to be so bad at it.

Looks like he can't even talk to Yumichika without acting like a complete fool.

And Rangiku must have realized. She felt bad enough for him that she actually forced him to exchange phone numbers with her so they could talk later. She mentioned that it wasn’t a completely lost cause, actually acknowledging what Ikkaku had just been trying to do there. The fact that she actually did realize that his verbal vomit had been attempts at conversation was pretty humiliating.

“You’ll have a chance to try again,” Rangiku promised. “Don’t give up so soon. You’re just his type. Handsome dorks are his weak spot. He’s helpless against them.”

Ikkaku didn’t believe her. That guy deserved a brick-house of a model, someone suave. Ikkaku wasn’t any of that.

“Not true,” he grumbled almost unintelligibly, purposefully not looking at her.

“You should’ve seen his face when you stripped down,” Rangiku said with a laugh and a wide smirk. Ikkaku blinked and then hummed, pondering that for a moment, remembering how Rangiku had been laughing for seemingly no reason. “Besides, he took pity on you and dried you off. You know what he usually does when people aren’t on point?”

“What?” he asked suspiciously, his attention captured.

“Rips them to _shreds,_ ” she stressed, describing Yumichika as the harshest of fashion police who showed no mercy. “He doesn’t take pity on anyone over the age of ten, and even then, he mocks the parents.”

“Oh,” Ikkaku mumbled. “I must’a’ looked really pathetic, then.”

“You _can_ talk without stuttering,” Rangiku said in surprise. “You were really nervous, huh?” Ikkaku growled lowly at her. “Okay, okay, never mind. We’ll work on it.”

“Why’r’ya’ tryin’a’ play match-maker for me, lady?” Ikkaku grunted resentfully. It was hard to admit, but he appreciated her help somewhat… only a little.

“This job gets boring, and Yumichika’s been single too long.” Ikkaku perked up. Yumichika was single too?

“Call me,” Rangiku said as she ushered him to the door with his perfume, which he hadn’t actually remembered picking out _or_ paying for. He looked up dazedly, eyes still dragging back to Yumichika, who he half-wanted to look at him, half didn’t. Oh right, Rangiku was still talking to him.

“I will,” he replied, almost slapping himself when Yumichika turned to Rangiku with a triumphant grin and a thumbs-up. Ikkaku let the door to the shop close, turning and realizing what that had just been. Yumichika had just given Rangiku accolades for getting his number.

He walked off, banging the heels of his hands against his forehead. What the fuck was _that_ , Madarame?!

Not only had he stuttered and made a horrible first impression of himself, now Yumichika probably thought he was after Rangiku and not him! He hadn’t meant that he’d call Rangiku like _that!_ He’d just wanted help on how to talk to his crush — that was _it._ Besides, he hadn’t even _asked_. She’d practically dug his phone out of his pocket herself!

The problem was, Yumichika didn’t know that. There was no way he could know that after all the mixed messages that Ikkaku sent while he was flustered.

The only solution would be to convince Yumichika otherwise, to convince him that he was interested in _him_ , not Rangiku. But sheesh, hadn’t it been obvious enough? Surely Yumichika had noticed how weird he’d been and that it had been because he _liked_ him? . . .

Aw man, Ikkaku hadn't thought that would be so damned hard! The first time he hadn’t even been able to go _inside,_ and this time he’d almost passed out _._ This wasn’t going to be easy, was it . . . Maybe he should try writing down conversation starters and practicing in front of the mirror. Anything that didn’t involve getting advice from Renji or Hisagi. They’d laugh at him.

They were both so smooth, and they didn’t understand — they didn’t get that it was _hard_ for Ikkaku. They didn’t get that it wasn’t easy for him to put himself out there because of how he was. His dating life was in a sad state of affairs because of how he is about sex, and he had a really hard time connecting with people. He’d failed miserably a few times and had given up and gotten out of touch with how to talk people. Ikkaku had lost hope that anyone could accept him in that way, and Renji and Shuuhei just didn’t _get_  that. He wasn’t as confident as they were in that respect.

Alright, he was pretty sure of himself and exuded confidence in every other aspect of life, but when it came to love and companionship, he was horrible, and he'd pretty much resigned himself to being single for the rest of his days; he’d come to terms with it and wasn’t lonely, but from time to time he did wonder how it would be. The problem was that since he usually didn't try, when he _did_ want someone to like him, he didn’t know what to do or how to act. Renji and Hisagi didn’t understand that; they were both so likeable.

No, they would be no help. They probably wouldn’t even be able to wrap their brains around the fact that he was and never would be after sex. They wouldn’t be able to see things from his point of view or give the right advice. He wouldn’t turn to them unless he got absolutely desperate. He’d ask for Rangiku’s expertise first, and see how that went. She was pretty, so surely men had tried to sweep her off her feet before. She knew what Ikkaku had to do — she could teach him! He’d take a strange woman’s word over that of his friends any day if it meant not having to admit to them that he was out of his element.

Ikkaku thought on his problem then as he trudged through the light drizzle, harsh sunlight hitting the window-fronts. It wasn’t like he thought Yumichika wouldn’t like him. There were lots of good things about him. He was loyal, determined, perceptive, and he poured himself whole-heartedly into anything he deemed worth his time; he had a lot to give if he could bring all those good things into a relationship and use them to take care of another person. The problem was, if he was spending all his time gaping like an idiot, Yumichika would never find that out. He just had to get up the courage to talk to Yumichika like a normal human being.

Ikkaku didn’t know how to reach Yumichika outside of his workplace, but Yumichika _did_ work there, so Ikkaku still knew where to find him. He just had to think of a reason to go back to that shop so he could see Yumichika again and convince him that he was actually kind of cool.

The rain excuse would only work once, so that was out. Saying he’d wound up there by accident would’ve only worked if they’d never seen him before. But what other business did he have in a hair-salon outside of extraneous circumstances? He wasn’t going to be in need of a hair-cut for the rest of his life. So what excuse could he cook up to go back into that place? Ikkaku pondered this as he walked to work, the sun cutting through the clouds.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After inadvertently coming out to his buds at work, Ikkaku decides he might be in need of some outside advice. Hopefully between them, Renji and Hisagi will come up with at least one good idea.

Ikkaku spent pretty much the entirety of the next two days in a text battle with this woman who kept insisting that he just come back to the shop and moon over Yumichika some more. However, Ikkaku couldn’t just _do_ that, and told her so, which kept them up pretty late at night, texting back and forth.

That day at work, he cracked down, since he was never more focused than when something was on his mind, and he was absolutely breaking his brain over how he was supposed to get back into that barber shop.

He worked straight through his break, lying on his back underneath a sportscar that had had its brakes cut. Vaguely hearing Renji and Hisagi fooling around, he tuned in and out of their conversation, wondering if maybe he should just go all in and bring Yumichika flowers. Nothing wrong with being forward, right? Would Yumichika like flowers?

Maybe that was a bit too expecting of himself. Sure, Ikkaku felt confident now when he was removed from the situation, but once he was back there, he's probably chicken out. He’d have to take small steps towards a big goal.

Ikkaku could be a real blockhead, but at least he was honest with himself, and the distressing truth of the matter was that the only thing to do about this would be to ask Yumichika directly. He just didn’t like admitting that he was doing all this thinking instead of acting because he was insecure — _c_ _hicken-shit_ , if he was brutally honest.

Maybe the real problem was that he didn’t know how to do it. He keeps thinking of how to say it but he just couldn’t make himself sound right, even in his head.

“Guhhh,” Ikkaku groan-whined, adjusting the light next to his head and then propelling himself out from under the car on his rolling bench.

“Listen, hey, listen’a’ me. Just apologize. That’s all you have to do,” Renji said in a harrowed tone. Ikkaku rolled his eyes. This again? Renji needed to give it a rest. Kira would find someone else, someone _better_. Renji should quit trying to get those two back together and focus on his own life, because Ikkaku had heard Ichigo was hanging around with some undesirables and that shit seems worrisome. Renji was a very trusting person, of course, but being trusting and naïve were two completely different things.

Ikkaku could understand that Renji had pretty much grown up with Kira and Hisagi being together and was unwilling to see them split up, but sometimes people just grow apart — or sometimes traumatic awful things happen and _drive those people apart._

“Look man, I’m not getting back together with him this time!” Hisagi snapped, running a greasy gloved hand through his hair, realizing his mistake after it stuck there slightly.

 _‘Hah. Dumbass,’_ Ikkaku thought.

Hisagi threw the glove on the ground angrily and looked up to Renji with his teeth practically bared. In a slightly hushed voice, as if he hadn't wanted to say this but had to _make_ Renji understand so that he'd finally get off his back, Hisagi grit out, “Do you know what it’s like to be fucking yer’ boyfriend and then have ‘im call out someone else’s name? To call out for that  _sicko_  instead a' you?”

Ikkaku recoiled. Eesh.

“D’ya’ know what that does to someone’s _head?”_ Shuuhei asked in his own defense, waving his hands at the two of them.

Renji stared at him for a minute incredulously. “Uh, _no.”_

“Tch,” Ikkaku spat, rolling his eyes at them. “Yeah, I don’t have that problem.”

“Oh thanks a lot, you bastards,” Hisagi snapped, nodding. “So ya’ don’t care, huh? Ya’ just don’t care? _Fuck_ you, man. And you too _._ Bunch a’ complete _jerks._ ”

“Whether I care or not, can’t say’ve’ ever had that shit happen’a’ me, Hisagi.” Although that seemed to keep him from getting into any worse of a snit, Hisagi still grew quite disgruntled over there, silently grumpy. “Truth’s the truth: I don’t have that problem.”

“Me neither,” Renji practically chirped, smugly raising his eyebrows. “Me an’ my honey’re waitin’ till marriage.”

Ikkaku snorted, rolling his eyes again. See if he'd dare call Ichigo that to his face and not get hit.

“Isn’t that just fucking _adorable_ ,” Hisagi said with a sneer, fully capturing Ikkaku’s feelings on the subject in one go.

“Hey, _hey!_ I can hold out!” Renji replied heatedly, then seemed to regret his earlier words from the way he scratched his head sheepishly. “Ah, yeah though . . . I can see where you’re comin’ from with that shit. That’s gotta’ sting . . . Izuru really did that? Even after…?”

“I _know._ Isn’t that completely _fucked up?”_ Shuuhei then began to graphically explain the incident. “So he’s under me and I’m fucking ‘im, right? And when he cums, all of a sudden he just moans,” Hisagi took a breath to demonstrate, and Renji just watched on, waiting.

“Okay shut up, shut up right now, I don’t wanna’ hear this,” Ikkaku demanded loudly. “Hisagi, _shut up.”_

Hisagi just huffed, head thrown back for a minute as he went to the mini-fridge for a beer. Kenpachi’s limit was that they could have two a day. Any more than that and they weren’t allowed to use the power tools. “I just can’t, y’know? I know he loves me, man, but that shit was messed up — an' yeah, I could’ve forgiven anything he did _because_ a’ how messed up he got, but _that?_ It’s driven me nuts for long enough wondering, but when he does something like that, my question’s pretty much answered. It’s hopeless.”

He took a large swig, and at that moment he looked more haggard than Ikkaku had ever seen him, and that was saying something, because Ikkaku had seen him during exam week back at university. “I mean,” he mumbled unsteadily when the beer didn’t go down right away, “We're doin' it, but  _that’s_ who he’s calling for, _that’s_ who he’s thinking of — not me.” Renji cringed dramatically. Ikkaku exhaled through his nose. This shit was so fucked up.

“I just can’t anymore,” Shuuhei said with a sigh. “What’m’ I supposed to do for ‘im? There’s nothing to fix anymore. He’s too far gone, and I want out, alright? It’s over.”

“I can’t believe you’re pullin’ this shit. I can’t _believe_ you’re doin’ this ta’ Izuru,” Renji said somewhat harshly, although Ikkaku thought he was being far too subdued given the situation. “You’re just gonna’ abandon him because things are gettin’ a little hard for _you,_ when _he-_ ”

Hisagi’s gaze snapped to Renji viciously. “You shut your fucking mouth!”

Renji’s tone grew sour. “Whatever. Truth hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Abarai, I swear to god-” Renji cut him off then, waving a hand and talking over him.

“Anyways, I’m havin’ problems too.” They both perked up in interest. Renji’s life wasn’t perfect all the time? What could’ve possibly gone wrong? Misery loves company and all that!

“I'm worried I'm gonna' fuck up my honeymoon,” Renji mused, causing Ikkaku to groan loudly and turn away to the utility sink.

"Are you serious right now," Hisagi said blankly. 

"Well yeah! How should I do it? I know you guys ain’t been married before, but…” Renji wondered, “We haven't gone all the way yet, so it’ll be the first time. I want it to be how it’s supposed to be, you get what I mean?”

Ikkaku expected Hisagi to get downright nasty and bitter, but strangely, there wasn’t a sour word; he actually seemed disturbingly interested.

“Honeymoon sex is _slow_ , man,” he drawled, making the word stretch out longer than necessary. “Completely naked too. Face-to-face. Make it romantic. Lotta’ sappy foreplay.”

Renji listened on with a serious expression. Ikkaku turned to eyeball them suspiciously, wondering if Hisagi was just playing a joke on him. “You said it’ll be the first time, so you have to make an impression and be gentle, right?” Hisagi shrugged then, “Ya’ve gotta’ warm’m’ up to it. After the first time though, if you didn’t scare ‘im off, you can pretty much go like animals for the rest a’ yer’ your vacation.”

As if that guy was an expert on married sex.

“Hm. Hm,” Renji replied with pursed lips and small nods, contemplating that. “I can work with that.” Ikkaku scoffed and decided to take his break now, wedging his butt onto the remodeled billiard table that they used to store parts on. Crossing his legs and throwing a dart at the wall-poster half-heartedly, Ikkaku propped one arm up on his knee and drummed his fingers, taking aim again and missing by a mile. Just like with Yumichika, damn.

Ikkaku pretty much tuned out the rest of their conversation. He lost track of what they were saying somewhere between who had more experience deflowering virgins and the merits and demerits of using vibrators to eliminate any chance of pain. Renji seemed eager to learn some skills that Hisagi obviously thought he had — even though the skill-exchange probably should be the other way around in that respect — but Ikkaku was too uninterested to even try to listen. It was either that or be dragged into the conversation, and Ikkaku had nothing to contribute.

“I actually met someone the other day,” Hisagi said, and it broke through Ikkaku’s boredom and monotonous work-pace, since his voice was now normal and no longer lecherous. “She was in a shopping mart — really cute. Ahh, I like older girls,” he huffed lustily. “Biggest boobs I’ve ever seen. _Perky_ too. Like… I don’t know how they were like that, but it was _amazing_.”

“How big? Hey, tell me!”

“Like _this_ , man.”

“Ohhh,” Renji sighed dreamily, somewhat reserved about it — that was his loyalty showing. Even his love of breasts couldn’t shake that, it seemed. Either way, Hisagi had probably measured the size with his hands or something, but Ikkaku didn’t turn to look.

“Ikkaku!”

“Aah?” he grunted, but only because Hisagi had used his given name. That fucker kept ‘forgetting’ that Ikkaku was older than him. They’d known each other a long time, and it wasn’t like Ikkaku wanted Hisagi to be formal with him or anything, but shit, a little respect was all he asked. He _chose_ to call him ‘Hisagi,’ of course, but  _Ikkaku_ was the one with that prerogative, because he had seniority. He didn’t want Hisagi whining ‘senpai’ all the time, but shit, after the bullshit Hisagi had pulled a few years back, he'd kind of lost the privilege to talk to him with that much familiarity  — Puh,  _Ikkaku._ Where does that kid get off...

Renji on the other hand was much dearer to Ikkaku’s heart, and he would let the kid get away with calling him by his given name. In fact, it had taken him _ages_ to get Renji to stop tacking shit onto his name; even now, the kid called him senpai on about a fifty-fifty ratio.

Hisagi however, had been acting particularly weird for a good while. Renji had been allowed to call Hisagi familiarly as ‘Shuuhei’ for years now, but in the past few months, whenever Renji did so, Hisagi got inexplicably vicious. Ikkaku couldn’t understand it. As it stood, Renji was so beaten down and confused by it that Ikkaku's surprised the kid hasn't blown his stack over it and demanded Hisagi quit bullying him needlessly. 

Ikkaku just wished he knew what the hell Hisagi’s beef was. Neither of them had done shit to him. It wasn’t their fault he was alone and bitter, so why was he taking it out on them? He was acting like they weren’t perfectly within their rights to be pissed over the way he was treating Kira.

“The fuck d’you’ want, I’m tryin’a’ work,” Ikkaku muttered darkly, which was meant to deter further conversation, 

“Her boobs were bigger than cantaloupes, why don’t you care?” Hisagi prodded, trying to get his attention. Ugh, _this?_ This was what he’d been distracted from working for?

“‘Cause I _dunno’_ , leave me alone,” he mumbled in disinterest. Renji came up next to him and leaned on the pool table, sipping one of his stupid fruity Aquarius drinks he kept in the fridge. Hisagi seemed frustrated and — if Ikkaku didn’t know better — almost _hurt_ by his dismissal. What, had that been an actual attempt at conversation? Those two knew he wasn’t interested in that stuff.

“C’mon man, you’ve been distracted all day,” Hisagi whined with a grin. “Be excited for me, yeah? I met a girl who could choke me with her breasts. I’ll finally die happy in motorboat heaven! I think I really have a chance with her if I can just get her interested in me!”

Ikkaku rolled his eyes, hopping off the table and heading back over to the sportscar. He had to change out the slashed tires and then he could go home. He didn’t want to hear any more of Hisagi’s girl-talk. He knew he was playing it up, because that guy could _not_ talk to women while sober. That was why his only successful relationship had been with Kira Izuru, and we all know how that turned out.

“How much of a chance are we talkin’? Does she actually know your name?”  
  
“Aw, don’t be cranky, yeah?” Hisagi teased with a smirk. “Just because you’re lonely doesn’t mean you have to be jealous.” Little bastard should take some of his own advice and just go home to his partner instead of haranguing Renji all the time.

“Whatever,” Ikkaku said, jacking the car up a bit more, straining his arms. “I’m interested in someone too.”

Renji spat out his sports drink.

Hisagi recovered quicker, but Renji had to take a moment to choke and cough, his eyes and nose leaking. “Whoa, man! You got laid?!” Hisagi shouted in surprise. Ikkaku grit his teeth and brandished a tire-iron threateningly, feeling his cheeks flush against his will. “No, then? You’re looking to _get_ laid!” Ikkaku took a breath, but nothing came out, so he held the air in and puffed himself up, eyes wide with rage. Unfortunately, he and Hisagi had known each other long enough that he could no longer intimidate him.  
  
“I thought for sure you were a  soshoku-danshi!” Hisagi cackled, grinning like a smug little shit, calling him one of those ‘herbivore’ guys. Ikkaku just glared, cracking his knuckles, advancing on him with the intent of shutting him up. Renji got between them, waving an arm.  
  
“Shut it, Hisagi-san, Ikkaku doesn’t eat grass!”  
  
“It’s a figure of speech.”

“You’re gonna’ scare ‘im off!” Renji insisted, his voice still raspy as he wiped his spill off his chin. He then lit up with a wide grin, seeming excited for him. “Ikkaku, you really met someone?”

Hisagi, having finished screwing around, also eagerly asked, “Who is she?” grinning from ear to ear, and not in a rude way either. Were they… _happy_ for him? Ikkaku recoiled in horror. “Is that why you’ve been so spacey today? You’re thinking about her too much? Where’d you two meet? Who is she?”

Renji nodded in enthusiastic agreement. “Yeah man, who is she?” Ikkaku scowled, because those two were a little too interested. Well, as far as the both of them knew, he never dated… _ever_ — which, admittedly, it's his own fault that they think that, because Ikkaku’s few relationships had lasted such a short amount of time that he’d never really gotten around to telling them. He was sure they’d assumed that he’d dated at _some point_ _,_  but the vast majority of the time they’d known him, he’d never shown interest in anyone. Ikkaku hadn’t realized they’d get so nosy, god damn.

“What’s she like, what’s her name? C’mon, Ikkaku!” they urged.

For an uncomfortable moment he just stood there clenching his fists, eyes slitting to the side. He’d been hesitant to tell them about his problem because he thought they’d tease, but if they were being sincere, there was no reason to lie, was there? . . .

No! He damn well wasn’t ashamed! He liked Yumichika and he didn’t care who knew!

“There’s no ‘she,’” he grumbled begrudgingly. Renji didn’t even blink, but Hisagi practically fell on his ass in surprise.

“What?! I didn’t know you were gay! You’ve been holding out on us, you bastard!”

Kenpachi, who had just passed through from the stockroom back towards his office, commented, “You tellin’ me I’ve only got one permanent employee who’s not a homo now?"  
  
“I’m _not_ a homo!” Ikkaku denied furiously. Shit, the last thing he’d wanted was for his boss to find out. “ Zaraki-shachou, I-”

“I don’t need details,” Kenpachi replied, shutting the door on them, and that was that. Ikkaku’s face reddened — god, that's really mortifying.

“I always knew you were secretly gay as shit, Ikkaku!” Hisagi shouted triumphantly.

“Fuck you, you didn’t know dick!”  
  


  
  
  
“Wait, go back, go back,” Renji rewound, unaffected by their hollering. “So you’re not a homo, but there’s ‘no she?’ A nonbinary person?” Ikkaku wrinkled his nose. Didn’t binary have to do with computers?  
  
“No?” Renji interpreted from his expression. “A transgender?” he prompted rather uncomfortably. “Ikkaku . . . You know that’s still a she, right?”  
  
“Abarai, _the fuck?”_ Hisagi looked completely revolted and was ready to interject his obnoxious and unwanted opinion, but without even looking behind him, Renji put a hand up and shoved his face back.

Ikkaku huffed in embarrassment and muttered, "No, it's a guy."  
  
“Oh... Are you just shy about coming out then?” Renji closed his eyes and nodded to himself, expression extremely understanding and kind. “Y’know, Senpai, you can be honest. I’m your friend, an’ I won’t tease you if it’ll bother you that much.”  
  
“Oh my _god, stop_ ,” Ikkaku moaned, scrubbing at his face. “You are so fucking embarrassing!”  
  
“Yeah Renji, quit your pansy bullshit. I want details on this guy.”  
  
“Why do you guys attack me every time I’m nice about things you’re insecure about? You fuckin’ hurt my feelings when you do that.”  
  
“Jesus _fuck,_ Renji!”  
  
Finally Ikkaku decided that maybe he needed some outside advice, and as long as they didn’t make fun of him, _maybe_ he could ask them for help.

“Hey shut up, for a sec’. You guys remember how I mentioned that hair-place the other day?” That stopped their argument alarmingly quickly, their ears perking at the new information. Fucking gossip-mongerers.  
  
“Yeah?” Renji prompted.  
  
“That’s where he works.”  
  
They both ‘ohhh’ed together. “I _wondered_ why you brought that up,” Renji mused.

Ikkaku nodded. “Point is, I dunno’ how ta’ get in there or what to say. I’ve gone before ta’ talk to him, but I don’t have an excuse ta’ go back. Can you guys help me?” he asked somewhat anxiously, brows furrowed. He hated to do this, but he saw no other option.

Hisagi drew back slightly with a confident grin, giving a light backhand swat to Renji’s chest. “We can _totally_ help.” Renji grinned and nodded wildly, fixing his bandanna, but after a moment, the grin disappeared. “I’m a _great_ wingman, yeah?” Shuuhei went on to say.

“Wait, wait, wait, listen, listen,” Renji cut him off, waving his hands. “Ikkaku,” he said seriously, looking at him with narrowed eyes that made Ikkaku suspicious and defensive. “What’re you after, exactly?” he asked cautiously. “Like… do you want his  _number,_ ” he began in a leading tone, “or are you tryin'a' fuck?”  
  
“Renji!” Ikkaku snapped indignantly, throwing his hands in the air, “I want a _date!_ Fuck!”  
  
“Freudian slip! He said fuck, that’s what he wants!” Hisagi called from where he was cracking another cold one and trying to hand it to Ikkaku. Ikkaku's pretty much had it. This was exactly why he hadn’t wanted to share; they were just gonna’ ridicule him, weren’t they.

“Shut the hell up!" Rage tuned out reason then, as it often did when he felt he was being made fun of. “You guys are fuckin’ impossible! I dunno’ why I even bothered! I oughta’ kick your ass, Hisagi! And you! The fuck is wrong with you, Abarai?!” He turned back to Renji viciously, chest heaving, knuckles cracking simultaneously as he clenched his fists on either side. Renji just pursed his lips, knowing not to show fear to an aggressive animal.

“Geez, I was only checking, Ikkaku,” he defended, putting his hands up. “You know me an’ Hisagi-senpai: both total dogs who took forever ta’ get serious.”

“What did you do when you knew you liked Ichigo?” Ikkaku ventured cautiously, knowing he was likely to get a response that was more _informative_ than he’d probably be comfortable with. Renji and Hisagi didn’t have the kind of boundaries he did.  
  
“He invested in a quality fleshlight, ‘cause he knew he wasn’t gonna’ get any from that frigid beanpole.”  
  
“Say that again!” Renji snarled, genuinely miffed. Hisagi, of course, went to repeat himself, but Renji beat him with his fist and an insistent shout that not having sex every night like he’d once been able to was a small sacrifice to make for such a serious commitment from someone as awesome as Ichigo. Ikkaku just rubbed his eyes with the pads of his fingers, sighing through his nose.

Renji then turned his attention back on him. “You know how I feel about love, Senpai — a beautiful thing oughta’ be shared-” His answer was interrupted momentarily by Hisagi’s fake gagging, but he was staunchly ignored.

Renji closed his eyes and beat his fist on his heart. “You already know deep down how you really feel — you’ve just gotta’ be true to that. My advice is to just go for it and see what happens.”

“I dunno’,” he mumbled. “Like I said, he works in a hair-salon. I dunno’ how ta’ go for it.”

Hisagi threw himself down in the swivel chair that he’d pretty much claimed, since it was nearest to his workspace. “You want to go into a hair-salon — _so what?_ … What’s the real problem here, huh? You’re insecure? Just go in! Don’t be nervous about it, people will pick up on that if you are, yeah? I mean, look at your _face!”_

“What’s wrong with my face?!” Ikkaku barked, scowling.

“Your face is _desperate_ , dude,” Hisagi pointed out, and Ikkaku quickly ran a hand over his mouth, as if he could somehow feel whether he was right. Renji gave Shuuhei a disapproving look.

“Just put your shoulders back, tense up your chest, think ‘I’m the man,’ and then _walk in there!”_ Hisagi advised. Ikkaku hummed, shifting his weight. “Then you say ‘hey, baby,’ and do your thing!”

“… I dunno’,” Ikkaku mused uncomfortably. Was Hisagi teasing him? He wouldn’t put it past the guy, but he wasn’t sure if his advice was completely untrue or not. He didn’t _sound_ like he was joking . . . Besides, Renji wasn’t speaking up, and if Hisagi was playing a cruel trick, Renji wouldn’t just stay silent like that.

“Do it, yeah?”

“Mm,” Ikkaku grunted skeptically. That place wasn’t a bar, and it _wasn’t_ like it was in the movies where women just swooned for that bad-boy act. Besides that, Hisagi’s advice didn’t sound like something Ikkaku could actually _do._ But if that really was the way to do it, then he would never get the chance to see Yumichika if he didn’t at least try! Ah, god damnit!

Renji cut in then, intervening, “Hisagi-senpai, c’mon, stop teasing.” Ikkaku crossed his arms then. So Hisagi had been fulla’ shit after all. “Look, you’re just freakin’ ‘im out. Besides, acting like that almost never works _._ It’ll just make him look like a jerk.”

“That’s what gets chicks.” Ikkaku then began to grow skeptical. What did Hisagi know about getting chicks?

“No, that only works on TV,” Renji said firmly. “In real life, girls don't like jerks. Nobody does. That’s not how you got Izuru ta’ fall for you, right?”

Shuuhei rolled his shoulders with a noncommittal noise, seeming cowed into silence for a few moments. Renji then looked at Ikkaku and went on to give his two cents, “Listen’a’ me, Ikkaku. Asking someone out isn’t scary. Just do your best and be nice, and if they say no, then there’s plenty of fish in the-”

“C’mon, that’ll _guarantee_ they say no! It’s the coward’s way out!” Hisagi protested, and Ikkaku began to second-guess Renji’s sensible-sounding advice. Would that kind of approach make him a coward? Ikkaku pondered this as Hisagi went on loudly, “If they say ‘no,’ they’re either a bitch, married, or something was wrong with your game! Be confident, that’s how you get ‘em.”

He nodded hesitantly. That made sense. Renji gave a long sigh, drawing his attention back.

“That’s how to get _drunk_ people in a _bar_ to come _home_ ,” Renji argued skeptically, as if he disapproved of Hisagi trying to pull the wool over Ikkaku’s eyes. “Besides, that attitude is chauvinistic, Senpai — and kind of assholish.” Ikkaku frowned. They both seemed to be trying to help, so who was right?

“So what? Getting someone is getting someone.” Hisagi inhaled a bit too zealously and descended into a fit of coughing.

“A one-night-stand is not the kind of ‘getting’ that he wants,” Renji protested over his painful sounding wheezes, taking advantage of Hisagi’s inability to reply at the moment. “Ikkaku wants a simple date, right?” he asked, turning back to Ikkaku, who nodded somewhat.

“You should just stay calm about it. Confidence doesn’t mean being a jerk. Asking someone out isn’t supposed to be a scary thing,” Renji insisted, “We’re adults now, and there’s nothing to be scared about.”

“’M not _scared_ ,” Ikkaku asserted with a scowl. Renji just kept going, knowing better than to open that can of worms. Smart kid.

“I’m sayin’ this is a very simple thing. The worst they could do is say no, and if they do, there could be a million reasons why,” Renji reasoned. “You don’t have to let it hurt you.” Renji shrugged then, his explanation really serving to make this all seem a lot more simple. “You don’t know that much about them yet, right?” Ikkaku nodded. “Well, if you ask ‘em out and they say no before you two can get to know each other, then they’re basically savin’ you time that you can use to find someone who _will_ like you. Someone better.” Hisagi was rolling his eyes in the background, but Ikkaku listened to Renji earnestly.

“I dunno’ if better exists. He's really… y’know… pretty,” Ikkaku admitted, a touch of insecurity in his voice. “I don’t think I have a shot.”  
  
Renji’s brow creased. “Who wouldn’t want a shot with you? You’re great!” Ikkaku glared at the floor, his heart admittedly going all soft due to his kouhai’s sincerity. Fuckin’ Renji, taking him seriously like this. Damnit.

“Stop being so goddamn nice,” Ikkaku grumbled, although he was secretly pleased. Renji was a really good kid; it kind of made him want to hit him sometimes.

“Listen, don’t overthink this. Just ask ‘im out, Senpai!” Renji said encouragingly, “Just keep it super simple! Show ‘em the real you, and they’ll definitely wanna’ date you!” He nodded his head then with a big grin. Ikkaku made a mildly dubious expression, but took it for what it was. All of that seemed to be sound advice.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, don’t listen to this guy,” Shuuhei interjected, putting a hand on Renji’s chest and calling the validity of those statements into question. “ _Abarai-kun_ hasn’t ‘dated,’” he put this in air-quotes, causing Renji to frown, although that could’ve been directed at the derogatory use of his name, “in _how many years?_ What does _he_ even know about people? He never actually asked Ichigo out either, right? He pined for ages, and then they confessed and went straight to an exclusive relationship, yeah? Renji has _no idea_ how this goes. He’s ol’-fashioned.” Renji frowned sourly, but Ikkaku nodded. Point noted.

“Dude, _Senpai!”_ Renji wailed, offended that his advice was being undermined. “You don’t get ta’ call me inexperienced. I’ve been out with-” he sputtered for a moment before bursting out with, “I don’t even _know_ how many people! I know how it’s done!”

“You might be an expert on hooking up, but hooking up doesn’t count.  I’m talkin’ about _dates_ , not one-night-stands or any a’ that shit. You’ve dated _once_ ,” Hisagi asserted, holding up a finger to punctuate his point. “One time.”’

“Hey, _hey!_ Look, _you’re_ not the best person to be taking advice from _either_ , Senpai. When’sa’ last time _you_ went on a first date?!” Renji snapped, and Ikkaku shifted slightly, because that was also true. Shuuhei ignored him and turned to Ikkaku.

“Look, this is very easy, even if he’s outta’ yer’ league, yeah? You won’t know his answer until you at least try.” Hisagi spread his hands apart like he was about to lay it down. “You go to the store,” Hisagi made a little walking motion with his fingers. “You open the door. You walk inside. You-” Ikkaku cut him off then, tired of being patronized and ignored.

“I _can’t_ go in there, you guys. It’s a hair-cut shop. Didja’ hear that part? _That’s_ the problem!” he reminded. Then he went on, quite miserably.

“… I’ll look like an idiot, an’ I did that quite enough already,” Ikkaku muttered angrily. “I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t bust out laughin’ the next time he sees me… if he even remembers me.” Hisagi was quiet for a second, looking at him with something in his eyes that could be construed as guilt. Renji’s brow creased as he listened on with sympathy.

“Dude,” Hisagi then stressed, gesticulating wildly. “ _Go in._ Sitting here and being pathetic like this is _messed up,_ yeah? Just grow some balls and go in there! _”_

“He can’t go in,” Renji said lowly, working it out, drumming his fingers on his lips as he took Ikkaku’s plight into consideration. “He can’t go in, Senpai, bald guys don’t just go into a barber shop.” Ikkaku grit his teeth. This was what he’d wanted to avoid.

“I’m not-”

 _“Hypothetically_ ,” Renji remedied quickly, pacifying him for the moment, “a bald guy couldn’t go into a barber shop. He ain’t got no reason to. That’s why Ikkaku can’t get started, Hisagi-senpai. He doesn’t even have an excuse ta’ go back an’ see this guy.”

Hisagi grimaced, rolling his eyes. “You don't _need_ a reason. Your reason is to ask for a phone number. You’re making an issue outta’ nothing, Madarame.” There we go, Hisagi had stopped being weird and was back on their normal terms — probably because he felt bad about making fun of him just now.

“Outta’ _nothin’?”_ Ikkaku growled. “Since when’ve’ I _ever_ been overdramatic? _You’re_ the shitbag who’s always sayin’ I’m nuts when I walk shit off instead a’ goin’a’ tha’ goddamn ER.”  
  
“Asking someone out is _not_ like obviously needing stitches,” Hisagi replied with his brow furrowed. “This is no big deal, you can easily just walk into that place, yeah?”

“How?” Renji questioned confusedly, “How would that even work? Are you expecting him ta’ go there ta’ get his nails done?”

“Pfft, _no_. I’m sayin’ he should just go in and be forward. He doesn’t have to do any a’ this shit where he pretends he's there for some reason other than asking him out. Are we grade-schoolers? Enough of these games — it’s all or nothing! Go in and get straight to the point! Yer’ always talking about how lucky you are, so go prove it!”

“If he does that, the guy’s answer just depends on his mood that day. He won’t even have a chance ta’ get ta’ know Ikkaku an’ like ‘im. He has to be able ta’ go in an’ talk to’m’ for a while, warm’m’ up to ‘im, y’know? But he _can’t._ ”

“He can too. Once when I went there, a guy came in and _he_ was bald, yeah?” Renji and Shuuhei began talking pretty much without him, since Ikkaku’s eyes were just flicking between them as he listened on in silence.

“I saw that guy, he wasn’t bald. He went there ta’ get his head shaved. _Shaved_. That’s a hairstyle, case closed,” Renji dismissed. Hisagi threw a hand up in defeat, turning around with a huff.

 “Guys, that doesn’t help _me,_ ” Ikkaku burst out with angrily, brow furrowed. Renji winced, shrugging his shoulders in agreement. Hisagi raised an eyebrow challengingly.

“I thought _you_ shaved your head.” Renji tensed, flicking his eyes to Shuuhei, who was being stared down by Ikkaku, who was silently _daring_ him to say that again or insinuate that he was lying. Did he want to take this outside?

“I do,” he said, sounding like the devil, and what do you know, Shuuhei didn’t say one goddamn word against that. “What’m’ I supposed ta’ say I came in for though, ‘cause I’m not _goin’_ there ta’ get my head shaved.”

“You’re _goin’_ there ta’ get Yumichika’s number,” Renji said. Ikkaku looked up in confusion that one, Renji knew who he was talking about, and two, that he was on such close terms with him that he’d say his first name that way.

Renji paused, seeming to take Ikkaku’s reaction badly. “That’s who you’re talkin’ about, right? I didn’t think any other guy worked there besides the manager, and… well… trust me, there’s no chance.” Hisagi sat there thoughtfully for a moment, ignoring them.  
  
“Yeah, Yumichika, that’s him,” Ikkaku said, trailing off and sighing, staring off into the distance. A smile twisted its way onto Renji’s face.  
  
“Aw, you really like him, huh?”  
  
“Shut it.”  
  
Renji’s little smile went to a full-on shit-eating smirk as he clapped Ikkaku’s shoulder. Ikkaku smacked his hand off. Renji just laughed, patting him again despite risk of bodily harm. “His standards are kinda’ high, but look, we’re adults now. _It’s just a date._ Go in an’ ask ‘im out, an’ he’ll like you.”

“Things’re’ more complicated than that,” Ikkaku insisted, although he was thankful for the heads-up about Yumichika’s standards. The second opinion confirmed what Rangiku had told him.

“If ya’ can’t talk, then just keep it super simple. That’s my motto.” Renji then gave him a look as if he thought something had gone over Ikkaku’s head. “You know what that stands for, right?”

“Huh?”

Hisagi suddenly cut back in, taking his hand off his chin to point at Ikkaku. “You watch Zaraki’s daughter sometimes, right?” He then shrugged mildly when Ikkaku looked up to him in confusion.

“Take her for a haircut,” Shuuhei said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. And it… it _was._

Ikkaku snapped his fingers. “You’re a genius!”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bringing Yachiru with him to confront his crush was either a spell of madness or a stroke of utter genius.

That Friday, Ikkaku took Yachiru from his boss as always, except instead of being dumped with her like usual, he actually _volunteered_ to watch her, gaining a weird look from Kenpachi. After he offered to take her out to get her hair cut, Kenpachi seemed impressed, but said that he was fucking crazy.

Ikkaku got a nice bonus in the process too, but he still didn’t know if it would be worth it. Well, yes, it would. The headache of taking Yachiru for the night would be worth it as long as he got to talk to Yumichika again. Rangiku had pestered him endlessly, and Renji was starting to get on his nerves too, wanting to be updated on his progress all the time; the kid was too much of a romantic. Now  _Hisagi_ was just a bastard who teased him about never getting any if he didn’t get a move on. Well, Ikkaku didn’t _want_ any, so _there._

He’d been carpooling with either of his coworkers for most of this week, since his bike still wasn’t fixed and he doesn't like the crowded public transport. There hadn’t been much time to work on it, considering he’d brought it to be fixed at his own work-place, where he had actual customers’ vehicles that were of higher priority. Most of the time, he was too tired to get his own shit done when he actually had an opportunity to and just went home, leaving his bike for the nightshift workers to take care of.

That being said, _walking_ there with Yachiru could’ve gone a lot worse than it did. He took her to the candy store before-hand in the hopes that it would bribe her to be good. She was always so much quieter when she was eating sweets; it was like the little monster went into a feeding daze, kind of like sharks do. By the time they made it to the salon, he was holding her hand as she toddled along with a big flat sucker in her mouth. Ikkaku had to stoop just slightly to keep a grip on her. He would’ve carried her, but she didn’t like to be carried by anyone except Kenny.

“Be good, okay?” he said, shouldering the door open. She nodded diligently, but she had that look on her face — there was no sense talking to her when she was eating candy.

As they went inside, they were greeted by the employees. To Ikkaku’s dismay, there were quite a few customers there, so many that some were waiting in the lobby, meaning that Yumichika likely wasn’t free. Ah, more bad luck.

It was true, Yumichika already was working with someone, crushing Ikkaku’s hopes a little, but Rangiku was free, and she immediately hopped up from the reception desk, grinning widely.

Ikkaku looked around her, and damn, it was hard; he pretty much had to bend his whole body to do it because of her damn curvy figure! Yumichika was over there, and Ikkaku felt his heart fluttering a little. He almost started to smile — ahh, he's excited!

Oh shoot, Rangiku was talking.

“You’re here, I _knew_ you’d come back,” she teased, prodding him in the chest, and Ikkaku’s eyes slid right back to Yumichika like a magnet. Yumichika looked over with a sly smile and a once-over. Ikkaku immediately felt naked, and retreated a step, having been caught staring. Yumichika smirked then, and Ikkaku had a minor meltdown when he realized that Rangiku’s manicured finger was still pressed on his breast bone. Yumichika shot Rangiku a thumbs-up, and Ikkaku’s stomach dropped.

He quickly swatted her hand off without thinking, and Rangiku blinked, since it took her a moment to realize what had happened. Ikkaku realized at the same time. Fuck, he hadn’t meant to do that — he’d just panicked and it had happened! Had that looked bad?

Shit, he was a mess.

“Sorry, uh, I’ve got a bruise right there,” he amended, rubbing the spot, and she thankfully didn't do more than bite back a smile.

“Who’s this little cutie?” she cooed, looking down towards Yachiru. Ikkaku jumped right on that, eager to change the subject.

“This is Yachiru, my… niece, I guess you could call her,” he muttered. “Me an’ her spend a lotta’ time together, don’t we.” He wiggled her arm a little, but Yachiru didn’t respond, just looking up at them and sucking on her candy. “Heh’,” Ikkaku laughed once. “Anyway, we want a trim. Well, _she_ does. Not me, obviously.”

“Sure thing!” Rangiku chirped, squatting down next to the little girl where Ikkaku was still holding onto her hand. Yachiru just stared back at her, sucker in her mouth, not replying as Rangiku complimented her beautiful hair color.

Finally, Yachiru took the candy out and said clearly, “Oppai.” Ikkaku’s eyes popped open, and for a second he couldn’t move. Rangiku looked taken aback at the direct nickname, and Ikkaku, mortified, snatched Yachiru up and turned her to face him, glaring at her with a hand pressed over her mouth. Yachiru just blinked back, knowing well at this point that he’d never hurt her and that she had no reason to be afraid when he got angry.

The little shit exploited that to kingdom come, too.

“You little-” he growled, looking towards Rangiku in apology. “Sorry!” he blurted out, but Rangiku was laughing uproariously at that point, beckoning him to hand Yachiru over. He reluctantly did, and Rangiku led her to a barber chair and sat her in it.

Ikkaku hesitantly sat down in the waiting room next to a sleeping guy in camo and hiking boots, watching on as Yachiru began making a fuss. Eventually, he had to come sit nearer where Yachiru could see him, or else she started to screech. “Just… let her keep the candy in her mouth an’ she’ll be fine,” he muttered. “Now you sit still, Sugar-brat,” he directed to Yachiru, who wiggled down in the seat and then sat still. “You oughta’ apologize ta’ Matsumoto-san here, eh?” Yachiru didn’t say anything, and Ikkaku huffed.

“Ah, don't worry,” Rangiku hummed, getting her tools ready. “So, what are you thinking? Just an inch, or what?”

“Do whatever ya’ want,” Ikkaku said uncertainly. “Just… just make it shorter, or… whatever you think will be good that won’t get me in trouble with daddy,” he muttered.

“Kenny!” Yachiru corrected, promptly sticking her candy back in.

“With Kenny,” Ikkaku amended, not wanting to get Yachiru all fussy so early in the day. That girl could be unbearable. Putting her to bed when she was cranky was an absolute nightmare. God, did she have fast little legs.

Rangiku seemed to enjoy the creative liberty, beginning with spraying Yachiru’s hair with water. She combed it down, and Ikkaku watched in interest. Yachiru sat relatively still other than wiggling her feet, mildly sucking on her lollipop while Rangiku worked on her, and she and Ikkaku chatted absently while Ikkaku kept glancing at Yumichika.

Ikkaku actually really liked Rangiku. He hadn’t been so sure at first, because it took him a while to warm up to people, but he did enjoy having at least one woman in his life at any given time, and Yachiru didn’t really cut it, given that she was just barely three. Rangiku certainly didn’t take any of his shit, if he went by her text conversations alone. If it wasn’t fondness he was feeling, it was definitely respect.

Ikkaku’s eye was drawn away as Yumichika finished with a customer and then wandered to the waiting area to tap that sleeping guy awake. He looked kind of grumpy and scary, and Ikkaku watched suspiciously as the man yawned and stood up, towering over Yumichika and stomping after him towards the barber chair. They seemed to know each other to some degree.

“How’s work going?”

“Eh,” Ikkaku mentioned absently, “My buddy Hisagi’s been a real pain in the ass lately. He’s on the fritz with’s’ lover, so he’s takin’ it out on everyone, includin’ himself.”

Rangiku made a sympathetic noise as she snipped away at Yachiru’s bubblegum hair. They both vented their troubles to each other for a while. The descriptions of a crafty absent bastard were eerily familiar, but Ikkaku was sure he would’ve remembered a man named Gin.

“So you like working in that garage?”

“I like it,” Ikkaku mumbled, slouching slightly, a hand propping up his chin as he watched Yumichika argue with the guy over whether or not he should have a hair wash. The man did _not_ want his hair washed, but Yumichika insisted it was difficult and uncomfortable to cut dry hair. It would be very itchy. Speaking of, it looked like this guy was here to get his hair dyed, if the current color of his hair was anything to go by. Where the fuck did that guy get off having green hair, anyway?  
  
“I get ta’ work for the man I respect most, so there’s that, and I get ta’ knock idiot temps inta’ shape. Fix shit, drink, file paperwork — sometimes it gets a little tiresome, I guess,” Ikkaku went on distractedly, “I wanted’a’ do kendo when I was younger, but that’s every sportsman’s dream, ta’ go pro an’ make a name. It didn’t work out.”

“Mm,” Rangiku acknowledged somewhat sadly, combing Yachiru’s hair directly up and parting her bangs down the middle. “I had dreams too, but life got in the way. I dropped out of art school. Typical story of a fool and her money being parted.”

“M’ sorry,” Ikkaku said sincerely. Now Yumichika was just going to town using a spray bottle of water on the dude, shielding his face with his hands. Sleepy green-hair guy seemed pacified by this turn of events.

What, getting wet hadn’t been the problem? Was he just some stubborn asshole who didn’t want to lean his head back over the sink? Weird.

“Don’t be; you had nothing to do with it. I lost my fiancé to a cute blonde. There’s much more to it than that, but that’s how it goes, huh,” Rangiku spouted, bosom heaving with a passionate breath as she let it out, “Oh well, there’s plenty of people out there for someone as smart and funny as I am, right?”

“Absolutely,” Ikkaku agreed, trailing off slightly as he watched Yumichika cut that man’s hair... with _scissors_ rather than a buzz-razor, whatever those were called. Geez, what a troublesome customer. What was more was that he wasn’t getting his hair dyed at all, just a simple trim like Yachiru. Don’t tell Ikkaku that mint-floss green was _natural?_

Yumichika would dig in close to his scalp and hold the hair between two fingers, snipping it with the scissors in the other hand, and repeated this all over his head, rubbing and ruffling the bits out. Ikkaku could see the guy’s eyes drooping and his chin lowering slightly, dipping more and more with each tug on his head from Yumichika pulling on his hair. Ikkaku had no way of imagining how it felt, but it looked like it felt really good.

Yumichika took a blow-dryer off the wall and fanned him with it, ruffling his hair and scratching his scalp slightly, tossing cut bits of hair off of him as he dried his head. Green-guy's half-open eyes fluttered shut with a small grunt as Yumichika finally put in some product, massaging it in thoroughly and then styling his hair with it.

Ikkaku let out a long, wistful, and _viciously jealous_ sigh.

“Like you, right?” Ikkaku suddenly heard, and he snapped back into reality, looking up at Rangiku in surprise.

“Ah sorry, I got distracted. What’ja’ say?”

“It’s just a matter of time until someone catches my eye. Just like with you,” Rangiku repeated, flicking her eyes towards where Ikkaku had been staring, and she just shook her head with a small laugh. “Should’ve known,” she muttered.

Ikkaku glanced back over and watched green-hair stand up with a yawn and stagger over to the counter to pay. He grumbled and glared, so jealous that he just might turn green too.

“What’s got you so grumpy?” Ikkaku grunted in reply to Rangiku. “Oh my god, did you seriously just _growl?_ You need to calm down before you make a bad impression.”

Ikkaku sighed, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He was quiet for a minute, thinking. “What should I say this time?”

“Compliments,” she said as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “Compliments always open up the conversation. People love talking about themselves. Yumichika especially.” Ikkaku blinked. His crush might turn out to be more than he could handle. Well, maybe not. If Yumichika was a talkative guy, that’d be perfect, because Ikkaku wasn’t one to do much talking usually. It’d balance right out. “Here, try on me.”

“Okay," Ikkaku agreed. When she gave no further instructions, he prompted her with, "Whadda’ I gotta’ do?”

Rangiku sighed roughly. Then she looked at him, appraising him. Suddenly she said, “What gym do you go to, Ikkaku?”

“Huh?” Ikkaku asked blankly. What the hell was with the subject change? “What the heck, you were just-”

“I wish I had a man with arms like yours, I mean,” Rangiku shook her head, “ _Wow.”_ Ikkaku stared for a minute, blankly, before…

“Hm,” he said, catching on, “Okay, I’ve got it now. Lemme’ try on you.” Rangiku stood still for him, letting him appraise her. “Uh…” Ikkaku looked her up and down again, lip sticking out. “How da’ you always look so pretty?” he tried, his tone of voice not sounding right.

“Too direct. Try again,” Rangiku said patiently, although she was smiling a little. Ikkaku nodded, frowning deeply. He made an indecisive noise.  
  
“Uhhh, how do you get your skin so nice?” he tried, sounding very unsure of himself. “Like that? Or maybe… The dye-job on your hair is really-” Rangiku chopped his face with her hand. _“ De!”_

“I don’t color my hair,” Rangiku pouted.

“Oh sure, you’re a _natural Japanese blonde?”_ Ikkaku said skeptically, to which she stomped her foot. “Fine, uh… you must do a lot of quad exercises." She gave him a questioning look. "Y'know, 'cuz you look like you could crush a guy's head with your thighs!”

Rangiku just kind of stared at him. “Uhhh… Did you just...?”

“No, no! Ah god!” Ikkaku groaned. “I meant like, to break his skull! Not-! No!” He scrubbed at his face angrily. “This is too hard!”

“I’m starting to think you’re hopeless.” Rangiku turned back to Yachiru.

“No, hey! I need your help!” Ikkaku insisted, grabbing her arm and shaking her. There came a sudden _snip_ , and Rangiku gasped, putting a hand over her mouth, her face snapping into an expression of utter horror. Ikkaku froze, not even daring to let go of her. Had she cut herself?

“Oh my god,” she said shakily, completely pale. Holy shit, was she bleeding? Ikkaku checked her and Yachiru, but there was no blood, just a… large amount of pink hair on the floor . . .

Oh. That wasn’t good.

“Oh my god,” Rangiku repeated. “I-I-… I don’t know what to do. Oh my god,” she stuttered. “I’ve never messed up before. Shoot. _Shoot_ ,” she repeated, staring in horror at her mistake. Ikkaku shrunk back, aghast. “I am so fired,” Rangiku moaned, a hand on her forehead. Ikkaku made a ‘yikes’ expression.

Before he could say anything, Rangiku, in a panic, called, “Yumichika!” across the busy room. Ikkaku’s hands curled onto the seat of his chair, his neck prickling like crazy. Oh shit, oh no, _oh shit-!_

“Yumichika, come quick!”

“What’s the matter?”

“Just come here!” Rangiku called desperately, gesturing him over frantically. Ikkaku didn’t turn as Yumichika approached, just making fists on top of his legs. Ah shit, he wasn’t ready for this.

He immediately cringed as Yumichika’s pretty legs came to a halt next to him and he heard a loud horrified gasp that somehow was perfectly audible even in the noisy room. The two didn’t speak for a few moments, and then Rangiku gave a worried moan, bending slightly to see Yachiru from a straight-on point of view. “Oh my god,” Yumichika said in accusatory shock, still just staring at Yachiru’s head, “What did you _do?”_

“I don’t know! I didn’t mean to!” Rangiku wailed, and Ikkaku was eternally grateful that she didn’t blame him for this. That would make him look bad.

“This oaf here shoved my arm and I messed up!”

". . ." Ikkaku bit the inside of his cheek.  
  
Yumichika gave him a small glance, but luckily his attention was then focused completely on Yachiru and her botched haircut. Ikkaku looked up anxiously, because now that the nerves had worn off, the real problem arose: _Kenpachi was gonna’ murder him._

“Can you fix it?” Ikkaku found himself asking, his tongue unknotting itself for the time being. “My boss is gonna’ kill me. This is his kid.”

“Your boss’s daughter, you say?” Yumichika mumbled absently, still absorbed with looking at Yachiru from all sides.  
  
“Yes,” Ikkaku replied earnestly.

“You’ve gotta’ help me fix this, Yumichika,” Rangiku begged. Yumichika shushed her, staring at Yachiru intently, an evaluative hum escaping pursed lips.

“Okay,” he finally said, “Here’s what we’ll do.” He bent down slightly, running his fingers through both sides of Yachiru’s hair, ruffling out the cut bits and looking at her face overall. Yachiru luckily seemed unconcerned by the fact that she’d had her hair chopped off and the resulting distress of the adults around her, still sucking on her shrinking lollipop. Ikkaku had some back-up candy ready, pleased by how still she’d been sitting throughout all of this. Small victories.

“We’re going to try a _short_ hairstyle with you, okay, Missy?” Yumichika said with a smile that said she didn’t have much of a choice. Yachiru stared back at Yumichika and popped the sucker out of her mouth.

“I’m not Missy, I’m Yachiru!” she said in clear annoyance. Yumichika raised his eyebrows for a moment. Ikkaku’s heart stopped. Damn this rude-ass kid! That was no way to talk to an adult! Kenpachi raised her with no fucking respect!

“How do you like the idea of short and curly hair, Yachiru-chan?” Yumichika said, not skipping a beat. “Like this.” He picked up some of his own hair and made two curls that started from the bottom of his ears, so that she could see how she’d look. “You’ll look like a pink kitty. How does that sound?”

“Like this — meow, meow!” Yachiru meowed, slapping the sucker back down on her tongue and closing her mouth, not even moving her head. Yumichika laughed at her answer. Rangiku was biting her nails like crazy.

“What a funny girl you are.”

“I’m not sure that'll work, Yumichika. I don’t think it can be saved,” Rangiku muttered. Yumichika ignored her, using his fingers to measure about how long the other side would have to be. “It can’t be saved, Yumichika, you’ve got to chop it. I think a pixie cut is the only thing to do.”

“Nothing ugly’s beyond saving,” Yumichika murmured, hardly paying attention to her, still fiddling with Yachiru’s hair, trying to see how the two sides would match. “Long bangs in front?” Yumichika said, to whom, it wasn’t clear. “Long on the sides. Short in the back. Alright. I can do this,” he assured Rangiku.

He began snipping the hair on the choppy half to make it look better, fixing it to the point where Rangiku could see where he was going with the style. She then took over again on the other side to make them match, immensely relieved, and Yumichika backed away, smiling.

Ikkaku stood up at the same time, gathering his courage. He knew how to compliment him now. “Thanks, it looks great,” he muttered. He looked over to Yachiru, and in all honesty, it _did_ look great. It was a bob with a big curl on each side and long straight bangs, and it was very cute.

Yumichika looked up to his face in surprise, and after a moment, he blinked and replied, “Thank you. You seem to come by trouble a lot…” Yumichika seemed to struggle to come up with a name for a moment. “Ah… Okyaku-san,” he settled on.

Yumichika didn’t remember his name . . . Yeah, Ikkaku was pretty devastated by that. At least Yumichika remembered who he was, but the fact that he hadn’t bothered to keep his name in his head… well, it stung.

“It’s Ikkaku. Madarame Ikkaku,” he reminded him sullenly, looking down at his feet in dejection. Ahh, what the fuck was he doing, huh? This was stupid. Yumichika didn’t like him in the least, not even enough to remember what he was called. He was out of his league and clearly knew it too.

“Ah yes. I knew it had ‘角’ in it,” Yumichika said then, making him feel a little bit better. “I apologize, Ikkaku-san, you must think me very rude.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Ikkaku reassured, laughing somewhat uncomfortably. To his horror, he heard a crunch, and saw Yachiru take a bare candy-stick out of her mouth. Immediately, she looked over at them and said the worst thing he’d ever heard.

“He’s not Ikkaku! He’s Pachinko-dama!”  
  
Ikkaku swelled with anger, ready to kick her scrawny little butt. He lunged at her and tried to cover her mouth as she mocked him, but it didn’t work. She hopped onto the counter. Luckily, Rangiku removed the scissors quickly this time, not messing up any further. Ikkaku tried to nab her, fucking furious, but she just danced around, shouting, “Candy-candy-candy! Dumb baldy-baldy-baldy!”

“I’m gonna’-!” Ikkaku shouted, grabbing her around the middle and shoving her down into the chair, glaring in her face. She slapped his cheek and he grabbed her wrist, seething. Fuck, he had half a mind to throw her fucking candy _away!_

Suddenly he heard a noise, and looked to his right. To his surprise, he saw Yumichika laughing the cutest laugh he’d ever seen. His nose scrunched up and the skin around his eyes crinkled. It was not an ‘attractive’ laugh, but Ikkaku just about died.

“What a charming girl,” Yumichika said, finally calming down, and for some reason, Ikkaku didn’t feel that Yumichika had laughed because he was making fun of him, but that he’d just thought Yachiru’s rudeness was cute.

“Candy!” Yachiru shouted, reaching greedily for the sweets that she thought were in Yumichika’s hands. “Sugar! Sugar! I want it, I want it!” Ikkaku quickly held her still against the chair, not wanting Yachiru to leap onto Yumichika. The last thing he needed was for Yumichika to get scared off because he couldn’t control his wild-ass kid.

Yumichika laughed again, hair falling into his face in a very nice way as he leaned down and fixed a bow into her hair, one that looked like a peppermint. Rangiku made the final snips and then they lifted her up towards the big mirror behind the counter.

Yachiru blinked at herself and then immediately lost interest and jumped onto Ikkaku, practically divebombing him with demands for more sugar. “Ahk! God, okay!” He pried her off and set her on the ground, handing her another large sucker.

“Domo, Maru-hage!” Ikkaku tried not to breathe, desperate to quell the desire to boot her clean across the room. What a brat she was today!  
  
Yumichika badly stifled a laugh at that nickname, turning away slightly with his hand over his mouth. Ikkaku scowled as Rangiku picked that little devil back up to do the finishing touches, which seemed to involve a lot of spraying and pins.

Yumichika didn’t drift away immediately then, standing near Ikkaku to talk for a moment. Ikkaku was pissed and red-faced. Why did she have to say that in front of Yumichika! God-damn, sometimes he wondered why he even loved that little girl in the first place!

But this was his opportunity. It was now or never. Ikkaku had the chance to say something, to charm Yumichika, to make him like him. He’d better not mess this up.

“Your boss’s child, huh? How did you get stuck doing that?” Yumichika finally said, breaking the awkward silence and looking to Ikkaku, finally taking his eyes off of Yachiru’s pink hair.

“Well, my boss’s’ someone I really respect,” Ikkaku began hesitantly. Yumichika kept looking at him, seeming interested, so he cleared his throat and continued. “He gives work to a lotta’ ex-convicts and bums, teaches ‘em how ta’ get on with their lives, gives’m’ a skill y’know? Plus, his craft is amazing. I can’t imagine not working for him; I guess I see’m’ like a mentor. Yachiru’s his girl. She’s like my niece, sort of.”

Yumichika was quiet all through that rather than interjecting with occasional encouragement, as should be done by any polite individual, and when Ikkaku noticed that, he came to an abrupt stop and willed himself not to flush. Shit, he’d really run his mouth too much, hadn’t he?

Yumichika finally gave an intrigued hum. “I think that’s lovely,” he said, face blossoming with the most beautiful smile. “We all should hope to find a job that fulfilling.”

“Yeah?” Ikkaku ventured, taken aback by the tone of admiration that was so clear in Yumichika’s voice. He sure as hell hadn’t expected that kind of response. “What about you?”

“I love my work, for sure,” Yumichika said, tossing his hair with a coy smile that pretty much melted Ikkaku into his boots. “I was _meant_ to make people more beautiful, although they could never hope to compare to me.”

“Yeah,” Ikkaku sighed somewhat dreamily, and then caught himself. “I mean, no! No!” he repeated, “No, you’re right.” Rangiku made a conspicuous noise and he turned to catch her incredulous expression.

“You do great work. Ya’ make it look easy,” Ikkaku went on, fumbling for recovery. “How long’ve’ you worked here?”

“Oh, a few months. I was fired from the last shop. Something about being rude to a client. I don’t understand it though. All I said was that her hair was such a disaster that it would’ve been easier to burn it off and start fresh.”

Rangiku snorted. Ikkaku just blinked, stunned by Yumichika’s bluntness. His mouth suddenly quirked in a smile, and he began laughing in disbelief.  
  
“The clients that come in here are much prettier though. Probably because it’s on the much more glamorous side of town.”

“Yeah, it’s nice here, I guess,” Ikkaku commented, hands stuffed deep in his pockets. He supposed he could call this place glamorous in comparison to Roppongi and Kawaguchi. “I work at a garage, so comin’ here is kinda’ nice . . . It’s really… clean,” he said.

Yumichika laughed. Ikkaku blinked. That hadn’t been a joke.

“I know this city is famous for the nightlife, but I’ve never really seen much of it…” Yumichika gave him a look that seemed to be significant, but Ikkaku didn’t know why, or what Yumichika had even meant by that.

“Oh, I have,” Ikkaku said. Yumichika seemed to grow cold towards him then, and he didn’t understand why. Rangiku put her head in her hand, but again, Ikkaku didn’t get it. What was he missing? He knew he must’ve missed _some_ kind of social cue for Yumichika to have just turned on the frost all of a sudden.

“Mm,” Yumichika acknowledged, this weird look on his face. It hit him then: he was being set up. It was the perfect opportunity to say something. Ikkaku gathered his courage. Do it, he just had to _do_ it, and then he would know.

“I could show you maybe, if you ever feel like it,” he attempted somewhat lamely, sounding disinterested. Yumichika shrugged flippantly, and Ikkaku began to sweat.

“I’m not into clubs much.”

“Oh,” he mumbled said in disappointment.

“Rangiku is, though,” Yumichika mentioned then, smiling, inviting Rangiku into the conversation. Ikkaku felt like he wasn’t clocking onto something huge, but not able to pinpoint what it was.

Rangiku shook her head, waving a hand back and forth as if to wave off smoke. “I’m not big on dancing, but Yumichika is, aren’t you, Yumichika,” she said pointedly. Ikkaku again frowned in confusion. What was going on?

“Not in a gross sweaty crowd of drunks!” Ikkaku grimaced uncomfortably. “Someone as beautiful as I am is a magnet for trash who’d like to drug my drinks! No, the nightlife is _not_ for me. At least not while brass knuckles are still outlawed.”

“C’mon, Yumichika. You’re no fun anymore.”

“Ikkaku, you’re a lucky guy to have found an equal,” Yumichika suddenly said, causing Rangiku to groan and roll her eyes.

“Yeah,” he replied dazedly as Yumichika led him around to the reception desk. What had gone over his head just then, because _something_ had.

“Uh… so…”  
  
“So?”

“… Never mind,” Ikkaku concluded, not having any idea really of what to say. Things were very awkward as Yumichika let him pay. He just stood there and wondered if he had gone wrong somewhere. Their conversation had been going so well, but somehow it seemed _weird_ now. Something was amiss.

Yachiru toddled over at Rangiku’s behest, fisting a little hand into Ikkaku’s pant-leg. “Yun-yun,” she chirped.

Ikkaku stared for a minute, and Yumichika did too. Suddenly it dawned on him. This must be Yumichika’s nickname. “That’s you,” he whispered to Yumichika, who ‘oh’ed and nodded.

“Yes?” he asked Yachiru, but it seemed she had just been saying his name, because she didn’t answer, content just to stare at him with her big eyes. Ikkaku picked her up and plopped her on her bum on the counter as he finished paying.

“It’s strange to see such a rugged man with such a beautiful girl,” Yumichika commented, eyes flitting behind Ikkaku for a moment, “and such a cute child she is,” he cooed, curling a finger through Yachiru’s locks. She tried to crawl towards him on the countertop, but Ikkaku held her still.

Something about that hadn’t sounded quite right to Ikkaku, but he couldn’t pin down what it was. “You should see her guardian, Zaraki Kenpachi.”

“Ken-chan.”

“Ken… chan,” Ikkaku corrected himself, his face doing a complicated twitch. Yumichika laughed a little.

“I like a man who can care for a child,” Yumichika said, looking him right in the eye, and fuck if Ikkaku didn’t just about pass the fuck out. Was he being flirted with? Was that- Was- Oh.

“Ah-” he stuttered for a minute as Yumichika continued to stare at him and smile. Is this what flirting was like? Getting the breath choked out of you and your heart feeling like a helium balloon? Ikkaku had to step up his game. He didn’t know if he could take this.

Just, oh- Oh wow. Okay.

“You- You got any kids?” Ikkaku asked clumsily, face hot, eyes wide. He was still in disbelief that Yumichika had really said that to him. He didn’t know how to respond to the obvious subtext; he’d been so conflicted trying to figure out how to make the first move to flirt, and here Yumichika had just said something like that so easily . . .

“I’m gay,” Yumichika said bluntly, as if he thought Ikkaku somehow couldn’t have realized. He said it so plainly too, with neither shame nor defiance in his tone, like it was nothing of note, a trait just as natural as height or marital status. Ikkaku respected the guts that took, because he couldn’t imagine coming clean to his closest friends about his sexuality, let alone a veritable stranger.  
  
As easy as it could’ve been for Ikkaku to say ‘me too,’ that wasn’t true – he _wasn’t_ gay – and the words didn’t come out; what _did_ was so fucking idiotic that he felt like kicking himself the moment he saw Yumichika’s reaction.  
  
“Well _yeah_ , but…” he said, then meaning to say that having kids didn’t have to do with being straight or gay, but when he saw that Yumichika’s eyebrows had immediately wrinkled in disgust, he paused, and in doing so, realized that pausing had made his statement seem to mean that he thought it was completely obvious that Yumichika was gay – in a kind of a  _mean_ way.

“What was that just then? Was that the sound of you showing your ass?” Yumichika said sharply. Ikkaku, having nearly bitten off his tongue in retribution for its betrayal against him, hurried to try to fix things.

“Shoot, that ain’t what I meant. I just meant that ya’ could still have kids, right? Maybe you adopted one because your… heart’s that big?” He then groaned audibly at himself for being such a moron. He put his head in his hands right in front of Yumichika, succumbing to his utter loser-dom. “Guhh!”

Yachiru was giggling, and when Ikkaku looked up, Yumichika was making the most conflicted expression ever, like he couldn’t believe Ikkaku was so idiotic, but found it amusing. “‘M sorry,” Ikkaku repeated. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

“Well, it certainly sounded pretty bad,” Yumichika said flatly. “What a hideous attitude.”

“Well screw you then!” Ikkaku raged, snarling; fuck this guy! Didn’t he get how hard this was for him? Yumichika raised an eyebrow even further, as if to tell him how shitty he was at apologizing, and well… he was _right._

“Wait, no! . . . Motherfucker,” he mumbled pitifully. “Sorry . . . Bad day.”

Fuck, what was happening to him? Ikkaku _never_ said anything he regretted, yet he’d just… Holy shit, what the hell was happening to him?

“No, forget it,” Yumichika said with a laugh, smiling. Ikkaku apologized again, ducking his head slightly, sweating. “It’s okay,” Yumichika insisted.

“Okay,” Ikkaku parroted, letting out a breath, “Good.” Yumichika was still giving him that look, although the amusement seemed to have overpowered the annoyance. Ikkaku clenched his fist under the counter. He was acting like such a nervous pushover that Yumichika probably was just taking pity on him and his social blunders at this point.

“I hope you bring Yachiru back again soon, Ikkaku-san. It’s been nice.”

“Yeah, I’ll see ya’… uh, Yumichika-san,” Ikkaku promised, and damn if saying Yumichika’s name out loud wasn’t the most satisfying thing he’d ever done. Yachiru waved to Yumichika as Ikkaku picked her up and set her on the floor. He took her hand and led her out of the shop.  
  
He wasn’t quite so mad at her anymore. Maybe the thing about ‘kids getting chicks’ wasn’t so wrong after all. Yachiru had seemed to at least give them something to talk about, even if he'd been awkward as hell for most of that.

Overall, he still thought the day to be a victory. The issue was that now he had to think of another excuse to come back here. He didn’t think he could wait until Yachiru grew her hair out again! He had to change tactics.

At least when he dropped Yachiru off the next day, he got another bonus from Kenpachi out of the ordeal. He was pleased with Yachiru’s new short haircut, deeming it ‘easier to wash.’

 _‘Yesss!’_ Ikkaku fist-pumped.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After his first bit of success with Yumichika, Ikkaku decides he needs some more advice. Rangiku is helpful as always. What he doesn't get is why Hisagi is acting so weird.

Ikkaku felt great.

He’d spent the majority of the weekend working out and fucking around with some of his old kendo gear, and man, he hadn’t felt this good in a long time. Maybe that was just what thinking about Yumichika did to him. Chasing Yumichika reminded him of chasing his dream.

He'd started to build some confidence. He might have a real chance with Yumichika. Sure, Yumichika had forgotten his name and turned down his offer, but he could've done a little better than that. Besides, their first meeting had been a short one, and Ikkaku wouldn’t begrudge him that his name had slipped his mind… even though… Ikkaku had anappearance that was very hard to forget . . . Well, it wasn’t like Yumichika had forgotten _who_ he was, just his name, which Ikkaku supposed he could forgive… _once._

What he still couldn’t believe was how goddamn beautiful he was. If there was one thing Ikkaku could appreciate, it was nice legs, and _fuck,_ was he a sucker for Yumichika’s pretty face too. He didn't think he's cared much about whether it's a boy or girl, but a guy's never caught his attention before, not to this extent. Ikkaku wasn’t actually gay, for one, but he supposed that if asked, he’d probably just answer that he _was_ to avoid the hassle of explaining himself.

Ikkaku hadn’t dated much, since not much caught his attention, but the few people he had gone out with had all been girls – because Ikkaku generally _liked_ women – and that had never gone too far. The main problem was that it took a bit for him to get interested - he didn't see the point usually, because he had little to no sex drive. He's not actually completely averse to the idea of having sex – just that he never feels like doing it, and that made it seem kind of superfluous. He’d always had more of a passive opinion about the whole thing, and he’d really rather not do it until he was with someone he actually _wanted_ to do it with, y’know? Thing was, he doesn't know how it's supposed to feel to be truly attracted to someone.

That being said, although Ikkaku enjoyed seeing nice legs and a pretty face, that wasn’t to say that it really _did_ anything for him. He likened it to someone who could appreciate fine art and hang it in their house, but have little desire to create something of their own, although they fully well _could_ and _might_ do so someday in the future if they were inspired by the right painting.

It seemed that Yumichika was that piece of inspiring art, because he’d incited this weird feeling inside of Ikkaku that he’d only felt a few other times, each of which had been confusing and frustrating. Not only that, something else was plaguing him besides the butterflies.

Ikkaku had found he was thinking about Yumichika when he lay in bed at night. There, he’d said it. He could visualize them… kissing and being lovey and doing fun couple stuff together, and he _liked_ the idea, mostly because with those fantasies came this nice warm feeling of being comforted and talked to and cared about in a way that simple friendship didn’t provide. He wasn’t against intimate companionship in any sense, although he’d lived alone for a good long time now. He was only a man, after all, and although he enjoyed solitude, he did desire companions, and Yumichika was who he wanted.

But it wasn’t just that he'd felt that elusive warm fluttering thing and latched onto it, no, it was much much worse than that. He _liked_ Yumichika on top of it.

After seeing Yumichika work, seeing the way he’d dealt with Yachiru, experiencing his strange kindness firsthand when he’d come in soaked to the bone, seeing his bond with his coworkers, and then finally hearing his passion for his job, Ikkaku felt absolutely charmed. It just made the longing that much worse. Even though they hadn’t spent very long together and Ikkaku had blown this entire thing out of proportion, he definitely liked Yumichika at the very least, and even though his life wouldn’t end if he screwed this up… he really _really_ didn’t want to.

It wasn’t like he thought he was doomed to be alone – since that was a very childish mentality considering the global population. What concerned him was that he hadn’t been particularly motivated to find someone until now, so if things didn’t work out with Yumichika… this person who was the absolute ideal of everything he would have wanted in a partner… Ikkaku doesn't see himself getting that excited over anyone a second time. After this, would everyone else go back to _'too-boring'_ and _'meh'_ and  _'not good enough,'_   leaving him with the options of either settling with second-best or growing old and alone? Why was that thought suddenly very… lonely seeming?

He knew that was kind of dramatic, but the last thing he wanted was to end up like Hisagi, bitter and drifting. Point was, Ikkaku hadn’t thought about much else besides the daily grind in a good long while, and the prospect of ‘that person’ finally being there… was both exciting and scary.

He didn’t know the game, he admitted it. The few times he _had_ dated had all gone pretty shitty because he sucked at communicating the fact that he was somewhere on the range of ace. Ikkaku was hoping Yumichika would be different, because shit, he really _liked_ Yumichika and wanted Yumichika to like him back.

He could admit he was somewhat intimidated, feeling inadequate because of his own inexperience. The thought of Yumichika having had other partners in the past didn’t particularly bother Ikkaku, but it did make him wonder how he’d shape up in comparison – especially since sex wasn't a given for him. Would that be a deal-breaker for Yumichika? . . . He tried not to dwell on that too much, but the thought was still there.

Mostly because if Yumichika tossed him aside based on that reason alone, then Ikkaku would have to just shrug it off and move on with life, but he didn't want to. He wanted Yumichika to be the one, because he hasn't gotten this excited over somebody since he was a shitty teenager.

He had hardly been able to _believe_ his luck when Rangiku had said that Yumichika had been single for some time, although he did wonder why that was. Someone that beautiful had to be single by choice. Maybe Yumichika was focusing on his career or was at a transition stage in his life… or… maybe, just _maybe,_ Ikkaku had a shot, like Rangiku kept telling him.

Another thing that encouraged him – a small thing, really – was what Rangiku had said about Yumichika’s ‘type.’ Yumichika was supposedly a sucker for dorks. At first Ikkaku hadn’t believed it, but that moment when Yumichika had gotten that weird look on his face after his slip-up at the counter… that moment had been _very telling._ It was like Ikkaku had met someone who would see all of his awkward advances, his pathetic attempts at socializing, his blowups, and somehow be… _charmed_ by them, or at the very least, amused.

It just made Ikkaku feel like it had actually been a stroke of _good_ luck that had caused him to lose his bus token, get lost in the city in the rain, and stumble upon that _exact_ shop at that _exact_ time. Hah! Of course it was! He never had bad luck!

Needless to say, Ikkaku had been running this shit around and around in his head for nearly all of Saturday, texting with Rangiku for ideas on how to get Yumichika to go out with him. Ikkaku preferred to avoid texting, but Rangiku didn’t like to talk on the phone, so he had to make do. He just needed someone to talk to about this who wouldn’t tease the confidence out of him, unlike his male friends.

From: 斑目 一角  
To: らんぎく

        Want to hang out? I have beer.

From: 松本 乱菊  
To: 一角

You know just how to talk to a woman.

But it’s going to take more than beer.

From: 斑目 一角  
To: らんぎく

         Fine. I have good sake saved up. Yosh?

From: 松本 乱菊  
To: 一角

Yosh. I’ll come over right away! Where do you live?

From: 斑目 一角  
To: らんぎく

         My place is nasty as shit right now. You don’t wanna’ come over.

From: 松本 乱菊  
To: 一角

You’re right, I don’t. Clean it so i can cut in on that sake soon!  
  
For now we can go to an izakaya instead.

They _might_ have enough alcohol to get you talking.

I mean, if we clean the whole place out.

From: 斑目 一角  
To: らんぎく

         Suck it, Matsumoto.

From: 松本 乱菊  
To: 一角

 Wow, I didn’t think you had the balls to say that.  


From: 斑目 一角  
To: らんぎく

        Wait no, not like that.

From: 斑目 一角  
To: らんぎく

        I didn’t mean that. That’s not what it sounded like.

From: 斑目 一角  
To: らんぎく

        It was a bad choice of words, I just meant you’re annoying.

From: 斑目 一角

To: らんぎく

        Reply, dammit!

From: 松本 乱菊  
To: 一角

Hah, I knew you’d freak out.

From: 斑目 一角  
To: らんぎく

         Gaaah, fuck you! Fuck you!

From: 松本 乱菊  
To: 一角

Hahahaha. Okay, seriously though.

Four o’ clock, Tokyo Midtown mall,

and then we’ll go to Tengu once they open.

From: 斑目 一角  
To: らんぎく

         Okay. Good idea. I will be there.

 

Sadly enough, Ikkaku’s bike was still in the shop. He was a grown-ass man though, and he wasn’t gonna’ ask for help. What kind of person would he be to call up his lady-friend and ask her to drive him to the place they were supposed to meet? No way. Ikkaku would sooner walk, although he didn’t really feel like doing that either. It was still tsuyu, and it could flash-rain at any time. On the other hand, he didn’t want to get a taxi for what would be a three minute drive.

He’d just call somebody _else._ Because that was totally different.

Typing in the number on his Nokia, Ikkaku held the receiver up to his face and waited for the ringing to stop. Hisagi had better pick up or Ikkaku would have to take the bus, and he wasn’t so great with hanging onto the bus-ticket.

“Yes, this is Hisagi Shuuhei?” came the polite tone that was rarely heard anymore.

“Yo,” Ikkaku grunted in reply. “Hisagi, can you do me a big favor an’ drive me somewhere? I gotta’ be there by like…” He checked the wall clock, “Four o’clock. So you should come soon.”

“You’re going somewhere? What the hell, you don’t do _shit_ during the day, yeah?” Hisagi muttered skeptically on the other line, and yep, so much for the politeness once he’d realized who he was talking to. “Don’t tell me yer’ day-drinking again…”

“No man, I don’t do that anymore,” Ikkaku sighed in annoyance, further irritated when Hisagi expressed his skepticism with a hum. Geez, a guy gets disappointed over a failed career for like _one_ year and he can never live it down! “Stop bringin’ that up or I’ll break your bones.”

“Whatever.”

“Besides, you kind of owe me, don’t you,” Ikkaku said, and Hisagi was uncomfortably and probably angrily silent, because Ikkaku always pulled that card. Hey, he’d stop pulling it when it stopped working.

“I thought you, Renji, and I were supposed to go out tonight, yeah? You change plans or something?” Hisagi asked, poorly disguising his disappointment with more shittalk. “Is there some weird daytime-purchase sale on alcohol that I don’t know about?”

“You wanna’ _go_ or somethin’?! Do I have ta’ take you outside?!”

“I just don’t get why you have to go shopping all of a sudden,” Hisagi mused, staying calm, “You don’t exactly get out a lot, right? I’m just saying, yeah?”

“No, _not_ yeah!” Ikkaku burst in annoyance. Hisagi did that _all the time_  and it was really getting on Ikkaku’s nerves. At this point, he had accepted there was no way to get Hisagi to stop; it was compulsive and he probably didn’t even realize he was doing it - but it's still goddamn _irritating_. He sighed through his nose. He was big brother, and big brother was supposed to be patient.

“Look, can you drive me or not?” he asked, that patience wearing thin within two seconds.

“Can _you_ spot me five-thousand?”

“That’s fuckin’ extortionate! I’d rather take a taxi!”

“Yeah, but you’ve already wasted this much time.”

“I fuckin’ hate you,” he grumbled. Hisagi laughed in his ear, causing Ikkaku to roll his eyes and privately grin.

“Be there in half an hour. I just have to shower. You should too, you probably reek.”

“Oi!” Ikkaku tried to retort, but Hisagi had hung up. He shook his head with a smirk. With friends like these…

With a flourish, he rolled up his exercise mats and carefully organized his equipment, then got a running start and slid down the hallway, careening into the bathroom. He kicked the door half-shut, shucked his clothes off, and turned on the shower-head on the wall. After dumping a bucket of water over his head, he scrubbed himself.

Cleaning himself off took all of two minutes, since all he had to really do was use soap or bodywash and that was it. After drying off, he put on something new and threw his dirty clothes on top of the pile, as if to spite Rangiku and her insistence that he clean. He’d clean once she was coming over for _sure._ So _there._

He stomped over to the small pile of shoes near his front door. The endless dilemma began. Put on his steel-toed work boots that looked bad-ass and protected his feet in the city, and have his feet get really sweaty, or wear sandals that liberated his feet but slipped off easily while running? He hummed indecisively, head bobbing from side to side, until he decided it was a free-toes kind of day, and put on the sandals. He’d be with Rangiku, so he probably wouldn’t have to run around or fight someone. He’d let _her_ take care of it if it came to that.

Right on cue, his phone buzzed, and figuring that was Hisagi telling him he was here, Ikkaku grabbed his jacket and his wallet, flung open his door and locked it, and then jogged downstairs to the sidewalk in front of his building, _Apartments Tower Roppongi._    
  
To his annoyance, he didn’t see Hisagi’s beat-up black car anywhere. He paced up and down the sidewalk, growling in irritation, and then checked his phone, finding that the text was actually from Rangiku.

From: 松本 乱菊  
To: 一角

I’m leaving now. See you there!  
  


“Shit,” Ikkaku swore aloud, sliding a hand over his head, contemplating how shameful it would be to ask Rangiku to get him at the last minute. “Fuck-fuck-fuuuck,” he grumbled, typing out the message with no small amount of contempt.  
  


From: 斑目 一角  
To: らんぎく

        I hate to ask this but my ride hasn’t shown up. Could you maybe swing by and get me?  
  


She was probably already on the way, but Ikkaku knew if he tried to take the bus or walk, he’d just end up being late as fuck. He could probably make it to Tokyo Midtown on foot in fifteen minutes if the foot-traffic was alright, and catching a bus would take longer . . . He supposed he could’ve just gotten a taxi after all, but it was too late now.

He could ask her to come get him, but fuck no, because asking someone who’d invited you out to come pick you up at the last minute was just the sign of a huge _tool._

“Ugh!” Ikkaku raged, scowling at the send button, but right about then was when he heard a loud honking noise. He looked up to cuss out the rude-ass fucker, but saw that it was _his_ rude-ass fucker, waiting in his car with the windows rolled down, smoking a cigarette and holding a coffee.

“You look like yer’ about to shit!” Hisagi called, mimicking how he was scowling at his phone, holding up his arms like he was texting. “I told you that dinosaur is no good!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Ikkaku snapped, opening the door and hopping in. Hisagi flicked his smoke, knocking some ash outside onto the concrete. Jamming it between his teeth with a grin, he held his hand out and made it clear that the car wasn’t moving until Ikkaku paid up.

Grumbling, Ikkaku forked out the cash, and then Hisagi put the car into drive and pulled away from the curb.

“So, where we going?”

“Mall,” Ikkaku replied simply, propping one leg up on the other and leaning back in the passenger’s seat, fiddling with Hisagi’s radio despite protests.

“Oi, hit CD and then leave it,” Hisagi griped, and Ikkaku obeyed, treated to acoustic guitar instrumentals. He was glad at least that Hisagi had quit bringing his own guitar to work; then again, he’d stopped right around the time he and Kira had first split up, so maybe it wasn’t all good.

“Fuck, I hope my bike’s done soon, or I’m gonna’ be piss-broke,” Ikkaku grumbled, bemoaning the loss of five thousand yen to a con artist who was just going to spend it on coffee and cigarettes.

“Hey, you don’t have to pay when I drive you to _work._ Just on personal calls,” Hisagi said with a grin.

“Go pound sand,” Ikkaku said, and then they fell into a nice companionable silence for a while, one that Ikkaku hadn’t experienced with Hisagi for a good long while. He hadn’t realized he’d missed it. If Hisagi didn’t act like such a shit all the time, Ikkaku might be apt to spending more time with him.

When Hisagi pulled into the mall’s parking lot, Ikkaku had him drive towards the front and through a round-about so that he’d be dropped right in front of the doors.

“Okay, you going?” Hisagi prompted with a grin. “It’s not too late to change your mind and hang out with us, yeah? We’ll go without you, you know.”

“Nah, ‘m meetin’ someone, I can’t ditch.”

“Wait, you didn’t say it was a date.”

Ikkaku ignored him, squinting and scanning the sparse crowd of people walking into the mall. He could see a lady in the distance leaning against one of the pillars of the overcast that was near the door, playing on her phone and chewing some gum. “Oh, that’s her, stop right here!” Ikkaku informed excitedly, and Hisagi came to a jerky stop.

“I guess I’ll see you later. Thanks for droppin’ me off,” Ikkaku concluded, struggling with his buckle, which was really old and rusty. Hisagi was oddly silent, and when he looked up to him in irritation at his old seatbelts, he saw that Hisagi looked a little miffed.

His lip was even curling, holy shit, he didn’t usually see anything that got under Hisagi’s skin. Usually those things concerned Kira Izuru, and Ikkaku didn’t get what Rangiku had to do with that. Maybe Hisagi hated this mall. Ikkaku didn’t ask, not caring much either way. Unluckily for him, Hisagi started up without even being asked.

“Yer’ going drinking with _her?”_ he said, and if Ikkaku didn’t know better, that tone sounded like… what, disdain? What the fuck was wrong with Rangiku that he’d say ‘her’ like that? Ikkaku might’ve picked a fight over his attitude if he weren’t in such a hurry to get to her.

He replied simply, “Yeah.”

Hisagi’s face scrunched up further. “But she’s so far out of your league, yeah?”

Ikkaku got his buckle out, but didn’t get out of the car yet, figuring that since Rangiku hadn’t seen him yet, she wouldn’t be too impatient about him taking such a long time. He turned to Hisagi with a hint of suspicion and annoyance.

“The fuck does that even mean?” Who the hell said someone was ‘out of their league’ in a situation like this? People only said that in dating situations, like how _Yumichika_ was out of Ikkaku’s league. Even so, he wasn’t going to let that stop him yet. However, with Rangiku, this made no sense. Friends couldn’t be out of each other’s leagues, not unless one person was famous. What was Hisagi’s problem?

“It _means,”_ Hisagi said darkly, glaring, “I don’t believe you. Quit lying if you know what’s good. Yer’ here for some other reason.”

“Uh, no?” Ikkaku replied, annoyed. “She an’ I have been talkin’ for a while now. We’re just goin’ for a drink. Why the fuck else would I come ta’ tha’ mall?”

Ignoring his question, Hisagi’s eyes bulged slightly, his face incredulous. “You got her number?” he sputtered, sounding like he didn’t believe a word of it.

“Yeah?” Ikkaku confirmed in confusion. Hisagi was quiet for a while, staring at him with cold dark eyes and a flat mouth. Ikkaku shook his head, opening the door and getting out.

“I suppose I don’t have to come pick you up later then, huh, since you two are so tight,” Hisagi bit out pointedly. Ikkaku didn’t know what the fuck was up with him right now, but he wasn’t interested in playing this game. He had someplace to be.

“Nah, I’ll call a taxi,” Ikkaku replied absently. Apparently, that hadn’t been the right response, since a nerve pinched in Hisagi’s forehead. What the hell was with him? Whatever. Hisagi had been weird and an asshole for months now, and Ikkaku was done indulging him.

With a nondescript grumble, Hisagi rolled the window up and drove off, leaving Ikkaku there on the curb.

Weird guy.

Giving it no more thought, he walked up to Rangiku and nudged her, at which she looked up and smiled. “You’re here! I thought you’d stood me up!” she said, swatting his arm.

“Yeah, my ride showed up after all,” Ikkaku mentioned. “So where’re’ we goin’ again?”

“Nowhere, until the bar opens up.” Ikkaku grumbled at that.

“Aw sheesh, why’d we get here so early?”

 _“Because_ , Ikkaku-”

“Oi,” he grumbled at his first name, but she just went on, ignoring him.

“-You’re gonna’ spill the beans to me _before_ your mouth’s full of food and alcohol.” Ikkaku rolled his eyes, walking towards the mall’s door.

 _“What_ beans? What does that mean?"

"The Yumichika beans."

"What?! Whadda’ you _possibly_ not know about this situation? You saw literally the _entire thing._ ”

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to hang out. You even bribed me with liquor,” Rangiku shot back with a laugh. Ikkaku stuffed his hands in his pockets and stomped along after her as she walked towards some shop-fronts. From there, he followed her around like a chump while she tried on jewelry, sometimes replying a monosyllable or bending forward so she could more easily place different kinds of sunglasses on his face.

It actually wasn’t so bad; he was having a pretty okay time, since she could maintain a conversation while she shopped, only occasionally interjecting about the store merchandise. He had been a little apprehensive about hanging out with her at first, since Ikkaku had long since lost touch with trying to make new friends, and didn’t know how to hang out with strangers outside of a bar setting. He certainly didn’t know many women, and hadn’t done so well with them in the past. Rangiku though, he was strangely okay with talking to, because if he went silent and stood still for a long time and just grunted in reply to her, she didn’t get snippy with him like his past acquaintances had seemed to. Rangiku knew when he was listening and when he wasn’t, and she seemed content to let him just hover nearby.

He felt very… _not-judged_ by her, and it was quite liberating to know that he once again had a _girl-_ friend that he could vegetate around; he didn’t know why, but women really chilled him out. Ikkaku had grown up with girls and he enjoyed their company – it was just, once he’d become a young man and sexual attraction had become expected from him, interaction with women had become this anxiety-laden painful thing in which he was searching for acceptance rather than being himself. He was glad that he’d grown out of caring so much, but at the same time, so had ended his romantic escapades. When he’d stopped trying to reach out to people, he’d done so in all ways, and that had left him without any female acquaintances, platonic or otherwise. That being said, Rangiku’s company was actually very appreciated. He hadn’t known he’d needed this until right about now, even if he was pretty much just standing around and letting her talk at him.

What interested Ikkaku was how much she was buying. _Holy fucking shit, how did she eat?_ Did she have an inheritance or something? How was she buying so much? She’d bought something in like every store so far!

“How the hell’re’ you affording this?” Ikkaku voiced incredulously. Rangiku gave a small shrug, not seeming laden down whatsoever by her bags, her biceps impressing Ikkaku somewhat.

“Well, since I’m living on my own now, I don’t have a sweetheart to buy persimmons for. No suits to dry-clean, no nights at the opera.” Rangiku shrugged again, rolling her eyes, “Since I’m only buying my own domestic goods, I _did_ have to make some adjustments. Ever since my aspirations fell through, I sold all my equipment. Not to mention I got a ton of money from a lawsuit.”

“What?” Ikkaku said, aghast, remembering vaguely that she’d mentioned something about cameras.

“Oh, it was a long time ago, I’m fine now,” she brushed off flippantly, as if his concern wasn’t needed.

“No, your equipment,” Ikkaku clarified. “You pawned it?”

“Yeah, I sold my tripod, my camera, my microphone, everything. It cost a lot, but it gave a lot back too,” Rangiku replied somewhat woefully.

“Matsumoto, that was your dream,” Ikkaku stressed, brow furrowed. “Why’dja’ give up on it?”

“I couldn’t finish school,” was her answer. Apparently, she’d vied to become a professional photographer, but her dreams hadn’t worked out. From the sounds of it, it had to do with losing her fiancé and not that she’d had been unable to handle the coursework. Ikkaku knew she was smart enough to get through college, so something else must have interfered.

“It was your _dream,_ though,” Ikkaku repeated, somehow horrified that she was now stuck doing something that wasn’t really a substantial career. He wasn’t happy about that at all; he didn’t like hearing about people failing or giving up on their passions – he’d done so himself and it felt pretty shitty.

“Yeah,” Rangiku sighed wistfully, “and it was a nice dream while it lasted too. It was a different time.”

“Don’t give up on it,” Ikkaku urged passionately, “Think about how happy you’ll be once you’re doin’ what you love!” Rangiku gave a small smile, still vigorously shopping, but now telling him all about location shooting, optimizing the lighting, different camera perspectives, and the people she’d worked with, which was all just what Ikkaku had wanted to hear, because it was _real_ and was from her soul.

Ikkaku talked about his kendo too, feeling secure enough in their newfound friendship to bring it up, but she wasn’t so interested in that, and Ikkaku quickly caught on and stopped blabbing about it. When he did, Rangiku looked up to him suddenly, blinking. “You know, Yumichika will probably be very interested in that. He likes watching martial arts and stuff. You know, figure-skating, dancing, gymnastics. Artsy stuff. He’ll fall all over you if you show him some moves.”

“I dunno’,” Ikkaku said uneasily. “Don’t you think that might be comin’ on too strong?”

“When have I been wrong?” Rangiku countered flatly.

 _“Um,_ when you cut Yachiru’s hair off that one time?” Ikkaku immediately brought up, only to get jabbed by her pointy as fuck elbows. “Fuck, woman!” he wheezed, holding his gut.

“That was _your_ fault and you know it! If you hadn’t’ve shoved me, I wouldn’t’ve made a mistake!”

“Who knows what woulda’ happened! Maybe I knocked your wrist outta’ tha’ the way before you made a fatal cut to her neck!”

“I’m not the type who thinks that bad events happen to you to save you from worse things,” Rangiku said somewhat darkly. Ikkaku was quiet for a moment, because hadn't that taken a dark turn out of nowhere? They'd been joking around a second before! “It doesn’t mean you can’t just bounce back though, I mean, look at Yumichika,” she commented. Ikkaku’s attention snapped back towards her.

“What’re you talkin’ about?” Rangiku made a surprised expression at his tone.

“Only that he’s missed out on better things too, but you don’t see him moping around. He loves where we work. He’s making the best of things, or… he’d say it something like, ‘finding beauty in an ugly situation.’”

“Mm,” Ikkaku replied, thinking about it as he followed Rangiku out of the store. It was getting close to the time when they could go eat, which was good, because Ikkaku was getting pretty hungry. They passed the rest of their time wandering back to Rangiku’s car so she could put her purchases in the trunk. After she’d locked up, they headed into the izakaya, which was as noisy and boisterous as they always are even though it had only just opened for the evening.

After sitting down and beginning to eat the first round of food, then placing their orders, Rangiku mentioned offhandedly, “You know, Yumichika mentioned you the other day.”

“What?” Ikkaku said flatly. “Ya’ waited this long ta’ tell me that? I don’t believe you,” he accused, eyes narrowed.

“He did,” Rangiku assured.

“No way.”

 _“Way,”_ Rangiku insisted. Ikkaku took a glug of sake when they finally brought the hot jug to their table. “Don’t hog the bottle! Gimme’ that!”

Ikkaku let the bottle get yanked out of his hand so she could pour into the saucers. Excited now, he pressed her for answers, “What’d he say?”

“When I mentioned I was going out with you tonight, he was glad and he told me how cute you are, which I already know, of course, but-”

“He said I was _cute?”_ Ikkaku repeated incredulously, not sure how he felt about that.

“Yeah, he kept saying how cute you were with your niece, and that you seemed really nice. He wants to know all about tonight,” Rangiku reported. Ikkaku put his chin on his hand, smiling a little lazily. “You know, it’s the first time I’ve heard him talk about someone and not suggest a change about their appearance. He thinks you’re cute, I told you.”

“I guess I didn’t fuck up as bad as I thought I did,” Ikkaku mumbled.

“No, you’ve definitely got a chance. Just find a way to come back again. You’ve got this in the bag.”

“Okay,” Ikkaku conceded, taking an unsteady swallow of liquor. “Could be tricky.”

“Oh please, have some confidence! Yumichika likes dorks but not cowards!”

Ikkaku nodded, and by that point, their food arrived, and they became preoccupied with drinking and stuffing their faces. Overall, it was a great night. He probably could’ve gone and done pretty much the same things with Renji and Hisagi, since he’d had plans with them, but he did that with them all the time, and it could get boring.

At some point Hisagi would get drunk enough to hit on the waitress, to which Kira – when he’d been there – would begin giggling and leaning on his partner. Renji, if he’d stayed sober, would be embarrassed by them, and if drunk, he’d get just as ridiculous and maybe try to do karaoke. Ichigo would be either dry as a bone or only lightly buzzed, laughing his ass off at his fiancé’s piss-drunk friends. Ikkaku had used to get into fights on those nights, and when Iba was there, he’d have shot-contests with him. Ikkaku had not been a bystander to idiocy; he’d never been the one being disgusted about how drunk and stupid people were; he’d been a participant. 

Being out with Rangiku was different, though. For one, she could drink a ton without losing much of her mental capacity – she just became rosy-cheeked and cheerful, and very chatty. Ikkaku didn’t really have to fight her for the food, or worry about looking dumb either. He didn’t feel the need to compete with her to prove something either, so he didn’t drink as much as usual, but he still got fairly sloshed. The only real issue they’d had was men coming over to their table to try to talk to her and get her to leave him and come hang out with them instead, which didn’t work out so well. There were no fights, and Ikkaku wasn’t ditched. Overall, it was the ideal night, except for the no fights part, of course.

When Ikkaku woke up at home the next day, he vaguely remembered saying goodbye to Rangiku and hailing a cab home, then falling into bed and sleeping instantly, the first night that week that he hadn’t lain awake and stared at the ceiling thinking about Yumichika.

Sitting up with a grunt and a yawn, he checked his alarm clock, displeased to see that it was time to get up. Damn hangover.

Taking some headache pills, Ikkaku made himself some tea and got dressed, deciding against a shower, since he had a slight chill. Trudging outside to wait for his ride, he sat on a bench and actually dozed off. To his irritation, Hisagi hadn’t shown up to get him at all, and it was twenty minutes past the start of his shift. Calling him and leaving a scathing message on his answering machine, Ikkaku jogged to the bus-stop and made it to work only an hour late.

When he walked in, Hisagi and Renji were already working. Hisagi had a welding helmet on and was using a blowtorch, so Ikkaku decided not to pick shit just yet. His head was still pounding and he felt all around shitty. Going over to Zaraki’s office, he knocked and poked his head in to see Kenpachi going through invoices, his coat thrown over the back of his chair.

“Oi, Zaraki-shachou,” Ikkaku began tentatively, to which Kenpachi grunted a reply. “I’m here, so-”

“I can fuckin’ see that, cut to the chase.”

“Ah-” Ikkaku stuttered slightly, trying to think of what he’d come in here to even say. Fuck, his head was swimming. “I’ll put in some overtime to make up for being late. It won’t happen again.”

“Whatever, just make it up,” Kenpachi said, and that was that. Ikkaku left his office, closing the door carefully. With that, he grumbled and cracked his neck as he put his coat on a table, finally heading to the project he’d left off on.

“Oi, Hisagi!” he called as soon as Hisagi tipped his mask up to check his welding progress. “Why didn’t you show up today? I had ta’ fuckin’ run for the bus, asshole!” There came no reply, and Hisagi just got back to welding, blatantly ignoring him. Ikkaku threw down a wrench in irritation, advancing on him.

“Listen,” Renji shook his head. “Hey, listen. He’s in a mood, Ikkaku, I think it’s better just to leave it right now, okay?”

Ikkaku grumbled, leaning his weight from side to side. His sick hangover attitude said ‘fuck Hisagi up for ruining your day,’ but his reasonable senpai-ness said ‘fuck it, whatever.’ He decided on the latter and left Hisagi to whatever his problem was.

They all worked in relative silence aside from Renji singing to the radio. Kenpachi went in and out of the shop a couple times, overseeing their work and going out to run errands. All in a day’s work. Ikkaku got a lot done, and by their lunch-break, he had worked up an appetite.

Renji had a specially made bento from home, the bastard, and Ikkaku just stared at it longingly, weighing the pros and cons of either fighting Renji for his love-lunch or trying to foot it to M.O.S. burger in time to get back for the rest of his shift.

Renji eventually gave him one onigiri, hogging the rest of his lunch for himself. _‘Wish I had a fiancé that made me love-snacks,’_ Ikkaku thought, chewing on the rice ball, and god, if he were a lesser man, he might’ve broken into tears at how good it tasted and how much it filled up the empty hole in his gut.

Hisagi had brought pizza from home, slapping that in the microwave and then chewing on it sullenly in the corner. Eventually he began talking about a late night drama series he’d seen last night, which Renji chimed in on about. Ikkaku didn’t have much to add, since he’d been hammered last night.

“Oi, wait, you guys didn’t go out last night?” Ikkaku asked.

“Well,” Renji said hesitantly, giving an uncomfortable glance sideways, “Hisagi called me and said that you met with someone, and… well, Ichigo had the day off too, so I wanted’a’ stay home an’ spend time with him . . . We all just decided it’d be better ta’ scrub it at home. Even Hisagi said he didn’t feel like goin’ out, isn’t that right?” he said, looking for support from the dark-haired man in the corner.

Hisagi shrugged. “I had shows to catch up on.” See, _that_ was true. None of this bullshit about meeting women all over the place and having all this frivolous ‘fun’ doing risky things. Watching movies at home alone on the couch sounded more like the Hisagi they knew, except… Kira had always been there with him. Now it just seemed kind of sad. Ikkaku did have the heart to feel bad for Hisagi, but just as much of that heart held Hisagi in contempt due to how he could easily repair things with Kira if he would just apologize. Zaraki always said a man’s pride shouldn’t get in the way of asking for forgiveness!

“So Ikkaku,” Renji said eagerly, causing Ikkaku to get suspicious. “You went out with Yumichika? How’d it go? Did you guys hook up? That’s why you look so tired, right – you were up all night, I’ll bet. He probably fell for you right away after a night with you!” Ikkaku’s eyes went wide for a minute, and nothing came out of his gaping mouth.

“Don’t be embarrassed! It’s okay, we’re all buds, you can share,” Renji urged with a smile, obviously trying his hardest to be welcoming. Fuck this kid – when Renji decided to be nice, he was very very nice, and it made Ikkaku feel like kicking him in the face.

“That’s not who he went out with,” Hisagi said, and damn, he sure sounded like there was a thorn in his ass. What was with him? Ikkaku frowned over at him for a minute. He was getting pretty fed up with this sour attitude.

“You still ain’t said why you didn’t pick me up this morning, jackass.”

Hisagi, in a pointed clearly challenging voice, grit out, “Why would I come by yer’ house when you weren’t home?”

“I _was_ home! I told you I’d get a cab!” Ikkaku growled. “Why would I not be home?!”

Renji, confused by this, went, “Wait, you didn’t go out with Yumichika? I was sure that… You don’t break plans for just anyone, so I thought for sure that you two hooked up finally . . . Wait, so what’s going on with him? Did you ask ‘im out yet?”

“Not yet, but I made progress,” Ikkaku said with a grin, getting distracted from Hisagi and his fucking stink-eye. “I just have ta’ get a reason to go back there. Hey, you guys?”

“What?” Hisagi snapped flatly. Renji just watched on with a mild interest.

“Could one a’ you go get your hair cut there before work, so that when I carpool with you, I can come too?” Renji seemed unsure of how this idea would really work. Ikkaku, not seeing any other way to get back there, began practically begging, offering favors and money.

“C’mon, please?” Renji seemed on the fence, and Hisagi didn’t reply at all, seeming to still be mad at him, although Ikkaku didn’t understand or care why that was.

“Well, that’s a little difficult . . . I dunno’,” Renji evaded politely. Damn this language for having so many convenient phrases to politely decline something with! Renji was a master at it, too!

“Renji, c’mon.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Renji said uncomfortably, seeming like he might change his mind if he pressed a little harder. Ikkaku wasn’t going to bother with Hisagi while he was in a snit, but he didn’t understand why Renji was so resistant to helping him all of a sudden.

He tried to work Renji down then, relying on his ‘must-please-senpai’ instincts to take over. “Look, _please_ just go get your hair cut there so I can tag along. Renji? _Renjiiii,”_ he stressed, grumbling at him in a half pleading half threatening manner.

Renji shook his head. “No, man. I don’t need a haircut right now.”

“Renji!” Ikkaku wailed harshly in complaint, glaring at him. How the fuck could Renji say he didn’t need a haircut? His hair was so long, surely he wouldn’t miss a little of it?

“No,” Renji repeated, shaking his head more firmly. It probably had something to do with his fiancé liking it long or something ridiculous like that. Ikkaku scowled. Renji wasn’t budging, so whatever then. He was out of options.

“Fine.”

Renji pursed his lips, seeming guilty then, at the very least uncomfortable. “… Look,” he said. Ikkaku just glared at the wall, arms crossed. “Look, Senpai, I wanna’ help you, _really_ , I do,” Renji tried to explain. “Listen, hey, listen’a’ me . . . I’m sorry.”

“I said it’s _fine,”_ Ikkaku snapped. Renji continued somewhat meekly, obviously guilty beyond belief.

“I just don’t want my hair cut right now, okay? I’d go, I really would, but I don’t want my hair cut, and I don’t want my… my nails painted,” he said awkwardly, to which Hisagi snorted, which was obviously exactly what Renji had been concerned about, because he flushed immediately. “Oi, shut up!” he snapped at Hisagi, who was smirking at him.

“If there’s something else I can do, I’ll do it, but I can’t do _this_.”

“No, there ain’t,” Ikkaku said with a sigh. “I dunno’ what I’m supposed’a’ do other than tag along with someone. I think I have a pretty good chance if I could just… Ugh,” Ikkaku said, scrubbing at his face. “Maybe I took this too far? I mean, what the hell, I like livin’ alone! I don’t wanna’ share shit! I hate spending money on people! I don’t even like _people!_ ”

Renji just looked at him woefully. Ikkaku grumbled and shook his head, laying the guilt on real thick in a last-ditch attempt to get Renji to crack. “I mean, I don’t _really_ know what Yumichika’s like, even… I just… shit, I really thought I had a chance. If I could just go there again, then-”

“Senpai, I’m sorry!” Renji cried, “I really can’t, okay? I can’t go there!”

“Why not?! You just have ta’ do this one thing for me! I never ask you ta’ do _shit!_ You act all supportive of me but then when I need _one fucking favor_ you pull this bullshit on me! What’s wrong with you?!” he roared, slamming a fist onto a hood, denting it.

“Oi, lay off,” Hisagi snapped, and Ikkaku growled, kicking the wheel of a Subaru. “He didn’t do shit to you, Madarame, just lay the fuck off. Leave’m’ alone if you know what’s good!”

Ikkaku scrubbed his nails against his scalp a couple times, trying to cool off. “I didn’t mean that shit, Abarai,” he grunted, not exactly apologizing. Renji didn’t say anything.

“Stop being a fucking _pansy_ and just go in there like a man. Quit prancing around like this, Madarame, you’re being fucking pathetic.” Renji cringed uncomfortably, eyes flitting around.

Ikkaku grit his teeth, grinding them together to try to quash his rage down. “You’re a real dick sometimes.” He turned back to Renji again. “Look, Renji, whadda’ you want? I’ll pay, I’ll… do you a solid? What the fuck do I have ta’ _do?_ Just do this for me!”

Renji shifted slightly, seeming embarrassed. “Ikkaku… I just…”

Strangely enough, Hisagi suddenly volunteered, saying “I’ll do it,” to everyone’s relief. Ikkaku perked up in surprise and hope. Hisagi was really coming around finally then.

“Really?” Ikkaku asked.

“Yep.”

 _“Really?”_ Ikkaku asked again skeptically, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“Yeah, I’ll go. My hair’s getting shaggy,” Hisagi said, smiling this weird smile.  
  
“Well okay,” Ikkaku conceded. “Thanks. You’re alright, man,” he said, grinning and clapping Hisagi on the shoulder, who spent the next few minutes grinning in the same manner, eating the rest of his pizza and then crumpling the aluminum in his fist, hurling it in the trash can.


	9. Chapter 9

Over the next few days, Ikkaku got more work done than he ever had in such a short time. He would’ve preferred to go back and see Yumichika right away, but Hisagi brought up the valid point that going back so soon would seem suspicious to anyone with a functioning brain. Ikkaku passed the time with work and exercise, getting himself good and sore at least twice over the course of the week.

Finally, the morning came when Ikkaku was silently eating natto on rice for breakfast, sitting at the table like a lotus blossom, serene as fuck, certainly not bitter or anxious about when on earth he’d ever get to see his crush again. Stuffing another bite of food into his mouth and leaning his elbows on his knees, flexing his toes where they pressed against each opposite thigh, Ikkaku heard his phone suddenly chime.

Almost knocking his bowl over, he seized it, quickly opening the message he’d waited for each and every morning for what felt like ages. It told him just what he wanted to know, that Hisagi had decided today was the day. Ikkaku had been beginning to lose hope that Hisagi would come through on this favor. He hadn’t said shit to Ikkaku all week, but it seemed like he’d finally broken his silence.

Ikkaku practically fell out of his chair in his hurry to slap his food back into the fridge and get out the door, barely remembering to put shoes on or grab his wallet and coat. In retrospect, he was surprised he hadn’t put his clothes on backwards. Hopping into Hisagi’s car, he mildly noted that he wasn’t smoking a cigarette or drinking dark roast as he usually was, and the radio was off. Ikkaku buckled up and they drove off.

“This shouldn’t take too long. Maybe half-an-hour,” Hisagi mentioned, breaking the silence, making way for some light conversation that weirded Ikkaku out. Hisagi seemed to be acting very peaceable all of a sudden. He must’ve finally gone out of his weird funk. Whatever, Ikkaku didn’t begrudge a man who had problems to work through. He was just glad Hisagi was back to his benevolent self; he’d really missed it quite bitterly. Ikkaku had always been used to being the ‘bad influence’ in their tightly knit group. Having a weird bad-tempered Hisagi glaring at him all the time had certainly been strange, although, for the life of him, Ikkaku still didn’t know what the fuck had gotten Hisagi in such a foul mood.

Whatever it was, he must’ve gotten over that shit by now.

On the rest of the way there, Ikkaku spent his time pumping himself up, getting rearing to go, garnering that ‘fuck-yeah’ attitude that would keep him from stuttering like a dope.

It wasn’t as though he had a reason to be insecure. Ikkaku knew that he wasn’t a bad catch. He was in shape and his face wasn’t so bad; he made an okay amount of money. He had been somewhat of a shitty partner in the past, but that was only because he wasn’t great at the physical half of things. Other than that, he did okay for himself – he could listen when he needed to, and he was very loyal. Whenever he’d been dating someone, all his efforts at patience and kindness had been focused solely on them. He wasn’t bad to hang out with either; he could be funny at times and he liked to think that he was a supportive person when it counted. He was also great with a sword, and rode a motorcycle, which was just randomly appealing to some people.

He didn’t want to get too cocky, but there wasn’t any real reason why Yumichika _wouldn’t_ like him. Renji was right. If Yumichika said ‘no,’ there were a million reasons why he could’ve said it, some of them probably not even having to do with Ikkaku at all. He didn’t have to take this personally; he could relax. Yumichika would like him, right? He was a nice guy. Yumichika would fall for him for sure if he could just get him to give him a chance. Ikkaku grinned out the window of the car with determination.

“Uh, stop doing that. It’s creeping me out,” Hisagi muttered with a small laugh. Ikkaku let the smile fall off his face with a sigh, leaning back and getting comfortable in the seat. “You look psychotic. You thinking about how it’ll be to have sex with a guy for the first time? Or’ve’ you done that before?”

“The fuck, man,” Ikkaku grouched, knowing that this was Hisagi’s attempt at extending friendship, since most of what he and Renji talked about at work had to do with sex. Even so, Ikkaku wasn’t playing this game. “Where’d that come from?”

“Well from what I know about you, you only go for women. _Knockouts_ , if I remember,” Hisagi said with this strange expression on his face. He was smiling and it looked normal enough, but his eyes… Sheesh, Ikkaku was probably imagining things. Eventually it registered that Hisagi shouldn’t ‘remember’ any of the girls he’d dated, but he didn’t have time to ponder this. “What, did you realize yer’ actually gay?”

“Yeah, ‘m gay,” Ikkaku said easily; he was comfortable enough with the fact that he was somewhere on the ace spectrum, but still romantically inclined. However, explaining that took time, and was often uncomfortable. Still, he understood that his friends knew him as a man who never dated, and when he _did_ date, only dated women, so he’d prepared for that question and had decided to just say he was homosexual, rather than go into the specifics, since it was just much simpler.

Of course, it was true, he’d only dated women, and even _that_ had been a very few isolated incidents. He’d had interest in others, but had only ever _pursued_ relationships with women, simply due to the fact that they’d been the ones to interest him most. Now that he was paying Yumichika special attention, it did probably look like he was ‘going queer’ from an outside perspective, but in reality, nothing had changed. Explaining that though was difficult and annoying and _private_ , most of all. It was just so much easier to use the blanket statement, ‘I’m gay,’ and be done with it. He didn’t exactly want to bare his soul to Hisagi in his beat up shitty ass car and give him material to hold over his head for the rest of their lives, now did he?

As far as anyone needed to know right now, he was gay, and that was it. The title didn’t matter so much to Ikkaku anyways, since he was secure in who he was and didn’t feel like he had to tell people to validate it.

“Congrats,” Hisagi responded flatly, giving it no further thought. “You know, to join the gay club, you gotta’ suck a dick for full membership.” He elbowed him in the side, teasing him. If he hadn’t, Ikkaku would’ve been surprised.

That didn’t mean it wasn’t irritating though. Ikkaku slugged him in the shoulder, grimacing, and Hisagi laughed to himself a little. “Just fucking with you, man,” Hisagi said benevolently. “Oi, I’m thinking of getting Ichigo’s hairstyle. What do you say to that?”

“I say it’ll grow out again so who cares,” Ikkaku replied, not having much opinion.

“Oi, at least I can actually choose a hairstyle, yeah?”

“Watch it, punk. Don’t think I won’t grab the wheel and steer us into a fire hydrant.”

“Too late, we’re here,” Hisagi chirped with a strange grin. He shut the car off and got out, not waiting for Ikkaku as he walked into the hair shop. Ikkaku slammed the car door shut, brushed himself off, and followed inside.

As the bell above the door chimed, Ikkaku felt pretty good, not nervous at all. “Irasshai,” Rangiku called towards him.

“Yo,” Ikkaku replied. Hisagi didn’t say _shit_ , just standing near him with his arms crossed and this weird look on his face. He was staring at Rangiku like she’d licked the floor or something equally disgusting. Ikkaku glared at him for a second. What the _fuck_ was his deal with her?

Whatever. It was a slow day, as was evident by the fact that only two other customers were in the store at the moment. Ikkaku bolstered his confidence. He settled down in a chair in the waiting area, waving at Yumichika.

Yumichika stopped dead and looked at him for a moment, causing Ikkaku’s smile to fade, but then Yumichika lit up in a smile of his own and came over to him. “You’re back again!” Yumichika noted with a small laugh. Ikkaku stood up, feeling weird to be the only one sitting down while having a conversation.

“Heh’, yeah,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck and grinning. Ahh, Yumichika was as pretty as ever, and if Ikkaku wasn’t mistaken, he actually looked happy to see him. “Lucky for you, huh?” he teased cautiously with an uncertain grin.

“You’re terrible,” Yumichika laughed, swatting his chest and letting his hand stay there. Ikkaku pretty much froze and gulped, his face filling up like a thermometer in those old cartoons.

Confidence growing, Ikkaku barreled on, pleased with the way it was easy to speak normally now. “I’m carpoolin’a’ work right now, and this guy wanted’a’ stop here before our shift,” he said, gesturing to Hisagi, like this was all his fault. Hisagi grimaced accordingly, still having his arms crossed. Yumichika didn’t take his eyes off Ikkaku for a moment, giving him his full attention. Ikkaku was pretty happy about that. “So I had ta’ come too. Hope ‘m not annoying you,” he added on only half-jokingly.

“No, no,” Yumichika said with a smile, then narrowing his eyes and humming. “It’s… Iiiii, something,” he muttered. Ikkaku sighed a little in disappointment. Yumichika still didn’t remember his name. Was he doing it on purpose to tell Ikkaku that there was a _barrier_ there? That he would never mean anything to him on that level? Because Yumichika certainly wasn’t _dumb_.

Yumichika was looking to Rangiku for help, but she had walked off when Hisagi had come into the shop. Hisagi was just letting him do his thing, absently looking around and waiting for service. Ikkaku knew he was going to hear it from him later on the way to work, but he’d worry about that then. He’d repay him for this for sure; Ikkaku was really grateful.

“My name’s Ikkaku,” Ikkaku said again. Yumichika apologized, but he waved it off. “Nah, ‘ts okay. We ain’t actually had ‘n introduction. I’m Madarame Ikkaku. Yoroshiku,” he said informally, and he really did hope that Yumichika would be good to him.

“Ayasegawa Yumichika. Be good to me as well,” Yumichika replied, bowing slightly. Then he straightened back up and while looking Ikkaku dead in the eye, said, “I like that name. Very masculine. It suits you perfectly.”

Ikkaku stared at him, taking a moment to silently confirm that he _had_ just actually heard those words and hadn’t just imagined them. Feeling a bit braver, he grinned widely and said, “Did you know that men with ‘一’ in their names usually grow to become handsome and talented?”

Yumichika’s face stretched gently in a sly smile. “I could’ve guessed that.” He was given a slow once-over, those violet eyes practically dragging over his body before flicking back up to his own dark gaze. Was Yumichika- _holy shit, was he biting his lip?!_

Ikkaku stopped breathing, feeling some sort of anticipation hit him from his toes to the top of his head. He shivered. Oh…

_Oh._

Ikkaku was dull as dirt when it came to these things, but that just then, that _right there_ had been a clear and present sign of interest. That was a fucking green light. That was a _go._

Ikkaku cleared his throat uncertainly, looking away for a moment and shifting his weight. Wow, that had been really direct. Yumichika’s sly grin just grew a little larger, his eyes flicking up to his face and then back over him again.

Ikkaku swallowed. ‘ _Now or never. Never gonna’ have a better opportunity. Get a move on.’_

He knew that the longer he dragged this moment out, the more he’d look like a straight guy who was grossed out by being flirted with. A preparatory breath left him, and he smiled, opening his mouth to ask whether Yumichika wanted to hang out sometime, any time, whenever he was free. “So, hey, I was just wondering, would you ever wanna’ maybe-”

“Oi, Yumichika! Aren’t ya’ gonna’ greet me?” Ikkaku stopped short at the strategically disastrous interruption.

At that moment, Yumichika’s eyes left him, drifting to the side and locking onto something, then lighting up with recognition.

To Ikkaku’s surprise, Yumichika gasped and rushed across the room towards Hisagi, going up to him and honest to god kissing him on both cheeks. Ikkaku felt his heart drop. “Shuuhei!” Yumichika cried breathlessly with a small laugh, hugging him around the neck. “I haven’t seen you in so long!” Hisagi seemed uncomfortable at suddenly having his arms full, but when his eyes flicked up and met Ikkaku’s, his expression hardened and he closed his embrace around Yumichika, hugging him back.

Ikkaku felt like ice had been dropped down the back of his shirt.

“Yeah, it’s been a while. Yer’ still looking great, Yumi,” Shuuhei noted, his voice light but his eyes boring coldly into Ikkaku’s.

 _Yumi?_ Those two were that close? . . . Hisagi hadn’t mentioned that they knew each other – had that been… that hadn’t been on _purpose,_ had it? Why would he do something so goddamn _mean?_

Confirming his dark suspicions, Hisagi gave him a challenging snarl, but his expression changed the moment Yumichika pulled back to look at him. He grinned warmly, for a moment appearing like he was twenty-two again, back when he’d been young and wild and optimistic, back when he’d had been all about integrity and loyalty and doing the right thing.

Ikkaku just stared as the two of them chattered to each other, Yumichika seeming overjoyed to have him here from the way he was holding both Hisagi’s hands in front of him, avidly asking what he’d been up to.

Hisagi seemed initially taken aback by the breach of personal space, but recovered immediately and then became very receptive to Yumichika’s flirting, obviously doing it just to stick it to Ikkaku more. Ikkaku was still just frozen in numb disbelief.

 

“Did you just stop by to say hello? Oh my god, I still can’t believe you’re here,” Yumichika gushed excitedly, still smiling the fucking smile that Ikkaku had longed to be directed at _him_.

“Actually, I came by to get my hair cut,” Hisagi informed with a charming laugh, ruffling both his hands through his hair. “I’m a mess without you, as you can see.”

Yumichika agreed completely, leading Hisagi over to a chair and telling him he’d love his new style. As he did so, Hisagi Shuuhei, one of Ikkaku’s closest friends, turned and gave Ikkaku the most evil smirk he’d ever fucking seen.

Hisagi _had_ done this on purpose.

Ikkaku, completely blind-sided by this, sat down hard in a chair and just stared at them, mouth slightly open. He realized dazedly that he’d been fucking betrayed. Hisagi had had it out for him. Hisagi had known Yumichika would recognize him and want to catch up. He’d known that calling attention to himself right then, while he was trying to ask him out, was the perfect way to screw Ikkaku over and embarrass him. He’d never wanted to help him; he’d come here _purposefully_ wanting to ruin things for him.

What the fuck was his fucking problem? Ikkaku oughta’ clobber him right now! He oughta’ break his bones! Hisagi looked real fucking pleased with himself, having put a monopoly on Yumichika’s attention and sloughed Ikkaku off completely. Ikkaku couldn’t even go knock that smug look off his face in front of Yumichika!

He bitterly crossed his arms, knowing he was fucking trapped. He couldn’t do a damn thing while Yumichika was there and Hisagi knew it. Not only that, he had to wait for that fucking piece of shit to drive him to work. Ikkaku just sat there waiting then, feeling like a complete idiot. Someone should punch him in the face. How had he not seen this coming, what with how weirdly nice Hisagi had been acting? God damnit, Ikkaku was steamed, and… and _miserable._ Fuck, he _hated_ himself.

He didn’t even feel like he had enough energy to beat Hisagi up later. He just… felt like lying in bed and _crying_ or something. Ahh no, he wanted alcohol. He really wanted alcohol and sleep. Fuck, he felt awful, completely worthless, like a _loser_ who was destined to be alone.

He could practically _see_ the chemistry between the two as Yumichika stood behind Hisagi and played with his hair. Ikkaku was so _so_ jealous. Maybe it wasn’t only that he felt he’d been thwarted, because he _knew_ Hisagi wasn’t really interested in Yumichika and was only trying to fuck with _him_. Maybe it was because this was something Hisagi would always have over him. Maybe somewhere private, deep _deep_ inside, Ikkaku wished that Yumichika could cut his hair too, that he could sit in the chair and feel Yumichika touching him and paying attention to him too.

Not that he’d ever admit that. Certainly not to that absolute _bastard_ , Hisagi.

Ikkaku also definitely didn’t resent the fact that Hisagi was a million times more suited for Yumichika than he was in every goddamn way. No, he didn’t give one single shit. He didn’t care what that fucker did.

He grit his teeth and glared. What the fuck had he done? What the _fuck_ had he done to Hisagi to deserve this? Was he just that much of an asshole now? He’d been hurt so bad by losing Kira that he wanted to wreck someone’s chances at happiness? He’d stoop to stealing someone else’s crush – that of which he wasn’t even really interested in in the first place? What, was he trying to prove something? That anyone Ikkaku wanted, he could fuck first, that it didn’t matter, that it didn’t even matter who it was or if he even liked them at all or not, as long as he got to fuck up Ikkaku’s chances?

Why… why did this have to happen? Ikkaku’s love life was fucked up already because of his own unconventional sexuality. He’d lost in love before, he’d been alone for ages, and just as he finally thought he was on the right track… Hisagi had come in and… and…

Even though Hisagi _knew_ , he _clearly_ knew that Ikkaku had feelings for Yumichika, he’d purposefully… he’d…

Ikkaku didn’t know what his expression looked like, but it must’ve been pretty pitiful. Rangiku, having noticed his plight, had come over to him at some point and had begun tugging on his arm. Who knew how long she’d been doing it. Ikkaku swallowed hard, unable to bear looking over at the pair of them as Rangiku pulled him to a standing position and led him to a table in the corner.

Even Rangiku felt bad for him, the poor pathetic lonely doormat, bad enough that she’d tried to rescue him from looking any more stupid than he already had. Ikkaku bit the inside of his lip. What was wrong with him? What was so wrong with him that he couldn’t just be with someone? That he had such shitty friends?

Rangiku made him sit down and then sat across from him, obviously having brought him there so that no one would notice how miserable he was. She told him to put his hands on the table, and Ikkaku did, dejectedly so.

Because he was such a fucking masochist, he looked over to Yumichika again, feeling Rangiku taking one of his hands in both of hers. Hisagi glared dead at the pair of them, and Ikkaku just stared back. What did _he_ have to be pissed about? What had Ikkaku _done?_ What had he done to deserve this? Why had Hisagi done this shit to him?

It didn’t really matter why, because Hisagi _had_ done the shit and there was no taking it back. Ikkaku turned back towards Rangiku, head down in defeat. He watched on as she made him splay his fingers and then pushed his cuticles back with great precision. Ikkaku let her do pretty much whatever she wanted to his nails as long as she didn’t paint them.

He sat there like a pathetic lump, gloomy and brooding, while they chatted together. Mostly, it was just her talking, really, with him grunting once in awhile in response. It was much like their first meeting actually.

Eventually, in a lull in conversation, Ikkaku sighed and quietly admitted, “I think I’m bad at this.”

“Why?” Rangiku asked equally softly, getting under his nails with a tool to clear the grime out. Some of his nails were blackened and chipped almost beyond repair.

“I went wrong somewhere, I mean… just look at ‘em,” Ikkaku said through gritted teeth, clenching his jaw, not daring to look over at them himself. Rangiku gave them an appraising glance.

“I think you may be right,” Rangiku said with a small grimace, assessing Hisagi and Yumichika. “They did really hit it off . . . You know,” she then noted in a ‘don’t-tell-but’ gossip tone, “I actually met that guy in a shop the other day. I thought he was going to say ‘hi’ to me just now, but he didn’t say anything at all. It can’t be that he doesn’t remember me either, because he keeps looking at me. Weird guy.”

“Yeah, I dunno’ what the fuck his problem is,” Ikkaku grumbled.

“When we met, I thought he’d had a stroke sometime in his life,” Rangiku then confessed, causing Ikkaku to raise an eyebrow. “He kept doing this thing when he talked… sort of like you when you get bashful. His face would twitch _and_ he’d stutter.”

Ikkaku shrugged mildly, letting his shoulder flop right back down. “That’s how he acts when he talks to women he likes.” Rangiku sat up a little straighter, chest pushing out. Ikkaku didn’t put in the effort to tilt his head up any further, and his gaze met her bosom, eyes catching on her silver necklace with its interlocked rings. Funny, it felt like he’d seen that somewhere before… maybe in a photograph.

“Oh?” she wondered eagerly, “Maybe I could photograph him sometime if he gets over his nerves. I’m trying to build my portfolio again.” She smiled then, turning Ikkaku’s hand slightly and grabbing another of his fingers. Ikkaku’s hand twitched in her grip, but then relaxed again. She was rubbing something into his nails now that was cleaning out the black gunk. That felt kind of nice.

“Talking to you really got me thinking about enrolling at the community college,” Rangiku said with excitement. Ikkaku looked up to her face, surprised. “He’d be a good model. I should take some pictures of him.”

“He’d like that too much,” Ikkaku stoically intoned.

“I wasn’t _serious,_ you know. I’m not going to. It’s a shame he’s turned out to be such an asshole. The assholes are always the pretty ones. I’ve learned that by being best friends with Yumichika.”

What permeated into Ikkaku’s brain was that she wasn’t going to… “You’re not gonna’ get ‘im for some shots? He could really help your portfolio. You know he’d say yes. No one can say no ta’ you.” Rangiku’s eyes narrowed. “‘Cause you could smash their skull,” he clarified.

She smiled somewhat fondly and let her hands stall in what she was doing to fix up his cuticles, simply rubbing his palms with her thumbs, and while normally he’d smack anyone away who did that, he was feeling so miserable that he hadn’t the energy to do so. The comfort almost felt… well, _comforting_.

In a quiet but sincere voice she whined, “Friends don’t make nice with someone that _hurt_ you. And he _did_ hurt you. And I’m your friend now, whether you want me or not.”

“I do want you,” Ikkaku mumbled petulantly, scowling.

Hisagi burst into a weird coughing fit. Rangiku half-grimaced and glared in that direction as if to say, ‘Stop bothering my poor baby over here.’ Once he ceased, she turned back to Ikkaku, lightly scratching the insides of his wrists with her acrylic nails. Ikkaku grunted and twisted his arms, but didn’t put any real effort into escaping.

“Then listen to big sister and get out of here. Staying is just going to tear you down even worse. There’s other people out there for you who’ll treat you like you deserve. Trust me,” she said with this oddly wise and pained look on her face, “I know all about having to cut toxic people out of my life.”

Once Rangiku finished up with him, Ikkaku left the shop without Hisagi. He didn’t want to look at that fucker’s face.

He’d come to grips with the fact that he’d lost his chances with Yumichika for good and that it was too late. He wasn’t going to get all butthurt because Yumichika liked someone else – there was nothing Ikkaku could do about that. Yumichika had been nothing but congenial and pleasant towards him. _Hisagi_ though, Hisagi had been downright cruel and mean, and that, Ikkaku couldn’t understand and wouldn’t accept.

The reason Ikkaku had lost that chance with Yumichika had come about because of that cruelty. Ikkaku’s only option now was to back off and concede defeat. Hisagi had won. Through fucking subterfuge, Hisagi had underhandedly screwed Ikkaku out of gaining Yumichika’s attention – he’d won, he’d kicked Ikkaku to the curb, and now Ikkaku had no chance whatsoever to get back in the game, not without looking like a complete loser . . .

He… he was pretty fucking pissed off about that, actually.

The mourning stage of his failed attempt at getting a date was officially through. Now came the anger.

Ikkaku was gonna’ fucking kill him. He set his jaw. He was gonna’ fuckin’ _kill_ him. He repeated this violent mantra all the way on the walk to his work.

This was how he was gonna’ be treated, huh? By his own _kouhai?_ Not on his watch, fuck no. Ikkaku was gonna’ kill him. Hisagi would pay for this slight, he would _pay_ for Ikkaku’s humiliation.

When he got there who knows how long later, he let the steel door slam heavily behind him and he headed straight to the fridge, getting a beer out and cracking it open against a nearby table. “How’d it go?” Renji asked.

That was when Hisagi arrived. Finishing up and then driving back had taken around the same time it had taken for Ikkaku to walk all the way there.

Good, he was back.

Ikkaku left his beer on the table, cracked his knuckles, and before Hisagi could so much as announce his arrival, he punched him dead in the face and bowled him over onto the pavement. Hisagi hit the ground hard on his back and Ikkaku got on top of him with an enraged roar, wailing on him as hard as he could, getting him in the face over and over. He vaguely noted that blood was on the concrete and that the skin on his knuckles had split. Arms were pushing and clawing against his torso, but it did nothing to deter him; even as he was nearly bucked off by Hisagi’s wild twisting and writhing, Ikkaku just kept beating on him.

“Whoa, whoa!” he could hear Renji shouting, but he didn’t pay attention, entirely focused on slamming his fists into Hisagi as hard as he fucking could. It was easier now that he’d stopped moving – _ahh, he wasn’t done!_

All of a sudden, Renji had him under both arms and hauled him backwards, dragging him away and holding them apart. Hisagi just lay there on the ground motionless, and for a few tense seconds Ikkaku thought he might be dead, but then he slowly peeled himself off the ground, blood coming down from his hairline and from both nostrils, one eye quickly swelling shut. He looked awful.

“Ikkaku, why’d you hit him so hard, what the hell?”

“What the fuck, man?!” Ikkaku shouted, still being actively held back. Oh fuck, he wasn’t done! He’d teach him to pull a fast one on _him!_ “You know I like ‘im!” he barked, “an’ you do this ta’ me! I thought we were cool!” He pointed an accusing finger at him, wrestling against Renji’s grip. “I can’t believe you did that! _Fuck you!_ Why the hell would you do that with the guy you know I like?!”

Hisagi gingerly touched his jaw and spat blood onto the ground, struggling to get to his feet and then stumbling and swaying once he did. In a low raspy voice, he gasped, “Why the hell are you flirting with the girl you know _I_ like?”

“ _What?!_ ” Ikkaku shouted, because oh fuck no, Hisagi was not turning this around on him. Renji let him go cautiously and Ikkaku used the newfound freedom to put the heels of his hands to his forehead in incredulity. “What’re you _talking_ about?!” he hollered with a tone of exasperation and fury.

Hisagi grit his red crooked teeth in aggravation. His eyes were dark, and his voice was like gravel, rough and sharp. “I was talking about her the other day, and it comes out that the two a’ you’ve been texting and shit.” His eyes lit up with fire then as he staggered to a standing position. Renji was in a dazed silence while he watched things unfold, ready to restrain Ikkaku again in case he tried lunging for his senpai again. “On top of it, when we’re there today, all you do the entire time is make eyes at her and let her touch all over you!” Hisagi accused, “ _And_ you’ve been hanging out with her alone! Fuck you! _Fuck you_ , Madarame!”

Ikkaku just stared at him, shoulders heaving. Renji jolted slightly, going to grab him again.

“You put on this act like yer’ shy and pathetic and that you can’t get a date, but you get _her_ when you know I like her and then wave her around in my face to prove a point! Yer’ just trying to screw me into being alone because you guys are mad that’m’ not with Kira anymore! You wanna’ cockblock me and make me be alone and miserable! No one wants me to be happy!” he practically wailed, sounding like a deranged animal that had been backed into a corner and was fucking furious about it.

That came as a genuine shock. It was because of her? “You think I… You think-”

“You knew I wanted her, and yer’ probably sleeping with her right now, aren’t you, just to try to humiliate me, huh? How much lower do you want to bring me, _huh?_ ” Hisagi grit out, glaring at him coldly. Ikkaku recoiled in disgust.

“Ughk!” he howled, “What the fucking- _fuck_ , Hisagi?!”

“ _Ran-gi-ku!”_ Hisagi punctuated in a harsh shout. Ikkaku glared at him, stomach still flipping. He didn’t… he… _uhk,_ he thought that… No, just… No!

“Wait, Matsumoto Rangiku? You were-” Renji stuttered, looking between the two of them like it was a tennis match. He was completely ignored.

“ _Her?”_ Ikkaku spat incredulously. “How was I s’posed’a’ know it was _her_ you were talkin’ about god knows when? You never even said her _name_ ta’ me – you coulda’ meant anybody!”

“You could’ve figured it out! Who else matched the description?!” Hisagi cried, eyes crazed and enraged. “You purposefully went to steal my game just to fuck me up! You guys haven’t once tried to support me since this whole thing started! All you’ve tried to do is drag me back to Izuru when you _know_ I can’t take it anymore! I’m trying to move on, and yer’ just gonna’ screw me over, huh?! You don’t _do_ that to yer’ friends!”

Since they were apparently playing _that_ game, Ikkaku cracked his knuckles and crossed his arms. “You know whatcha’ don’t do? Abandon your partner an’ then look for someone else while you’re still heartbroke.”

Hisagi spat back at him, “My heart’s only broke because you messed up my chances with a great woman.”

“You have a man waitin’ for ya’ at home. And make no mistake, he _is_ waiting,” Ikkaku grit out, a _millimeter_ from reaching out and seizing Hisagi by the throat. Fuck his parole. “You’re just too much of a coward ta’ go back,” he hissed threateningly.

Hisagi completely snapped then, screaming at him, blood frothing on his lips, “ _Fuck you, Madarame!_ You saw an opening and you took it! I bet both a’ you’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this, haven’t you! You just wanna’ punish me for finally facing that there was no fixing things!” He wiped his mouth, a deranged look in his eye. “You know, I didn’t want things to be like this! I did every possible thing I could! Do you think I would’ve called it quits with him over something small? Even _I_ have a breaking point – it doesn’t matter how much I love ‘im! I just can’t live like this anymore! But you don’t give a shit about that, do you!”

“Fuck you, why _would_ I when you’re treatin’ us all like shit?! You’re taking it out on us! That was _messed up!_ You don’t _do_ that shit to your friends!” Ikkaku howled, at his wits’ end.

“Don’t pretend like we were ever friends! I see what kind of _friends_ you guys are! Throughout this _entire_ shitfest, neither of you’ve helped me!” Hisagi cried back, “ _Not once_ _have either of you two shown me an ounce of support!”_

That shut Ikkaku up for a moment because his entire mind just checked off, overloaded with rage. When he came back to himself, Renji was desperately clinging onto him, arms locked around his chest. “ _Support?!”_ Ikkaku screamed. “What’ve you done ta’ garner our support, for fuck’s sake?! You left Kira when he needed you most and you keep goin’ back an’ givin’m’ false hope! Why in _fuck’s_ name would we support that?!”

“It doesn’t matter if you don’t agree with it! You don’t get to just ruin my life because you think I did something wrong and that I hurt Kira! It’s not his fault for what happened, but does that mean I have to put up with this forever?!”

“Hisagi-senpai, stop!” Renji cried, “Please, just stop, you guys!” but it was no use. The dam that had held against months and months of silence and stoic displays of purposeful ignorance had _burst_ and there was no repairing it. This was the first time that there’d been a  _real_ confrontation about everything that had happened, and there was no stopping it now that it had come up. It had built and built until it had exploded, and now that it had, it’d drawn blood.

“This ain’t about that, is it,” Ikkaku growled, somehow managing to regain and keep his cool. “Your pride’s bruised. Well, how da’ ya’ think _I_ feel?” He glared at Hisagi for a moment and then bore his soul, letting the offense and maybe a little hurt show in his voice. He couldn’t believe that one of his closest friends had… _done_ this to him.

“You made a complete fool outta’ me _purposefully_ when you knew that this was somethin’ I really wanted. You can get a lot of people’s attention if you want. I have a hard time and you _know_ that. It’s not often I even _like_ someone, but I met Yumichika an’ I had actual _hope_. I _tell_ that ta’ you guys an’ I trust you for help, an’ you _stab me in the back!_ ” Ikkaku hollered. Renji jumped into action, seizing him by the arms again. So angry that he wasn’t thinking about anything other than hurting Hisagi as badly as he could, in the heat of the moment Ikkaku screamed some words of true cruelty. “ _Fuck you, you bastard!_ It’s no wonder that Kira doesn’t wanna’ be with you!”

Hisagi’s face twitched like half of it had been given an electric shock, while the other half had been preserved in cement. Then he looked around and seized the thing nearest to him, hurled it at Ikkaku’s head, and then grabbed something else. He cracked Ikkaku in the cheek with a lug wrench, by which point Ikkaku had yanked away from Renji and lunged, nabbing Hisagi by the throat.

Ikkaku squeezed his neck and choked him and shook him around until he was stupidly pale and blue, he hates him, he fucking hates him- Hisagi was jamming his fingers into his eyesocket and hitting him in the face and it fucking hurt, but he didn’t even care, he just wanted to hurt him, he wanted to fuck him up!

Not caring about anything but beating the living shit out of each other, they fell to the floor, knocking into shit and rolling around on the ground. It wasn’t a matter of simply getting rage out; they were really out to do harm.

Renji just stared at the two of them for a moment, mouth opening and closing helplessly. Not knowing where to start or whether he should stick his hand between rabid dogs, he merely watched for a second, eyes bulging, no sound coming out of him even though he was trying. Finally, overwhelmed, he shouted for Kenpachi and hammered on his office door, scrambling away when his two senpai wrecked something that died a particularly noisy death as it shattered against the cement.

Somewhere between Ikkaku having a fistful of Hisagi’s hair and using it to slam his head against the floor and Hisagi stabbing Ikkaku with a screwdriver, intervention finally came. Renji tried to drag them apart again, but backed off quickly when Kenpachi came out with the power washer and sprayed the fuck out of them, effectively breaking them apart.

Ikkaku rolled to the side, gasping and coughing like a fish, having caught the full water pressure in the face. Hisagi was on his hands and knees, puking. Kenpachi shut the water off, and in that usual deep terrifying tone of his, said, “Get tha’ fuck outta’ here, an’ don’t come back ‘till ya’ kin’ work without fuckin’ each other up.”

Hisagi was fucking soaked, covered in blood, and pissed. He scrambled to his feet and threw on his jacket indignantly, then stormed out with a heavy limp. Kenpachi threw the hose down and went into his office, slamming the door, ranting about stupid-ass kids.

Ikkaku sat up and got to his feet, wiping his face off, seeing blood on his hand. Whether that was from the gash to his cheek or the hole in his palm, he didn’t know.

“What happened?” Renji asked meekly, aghast. Ikkaku didn’t answer, just staring at the door where Hisagi had left. He then walked away with a ‘che,’ spitting blood onto the floor.

“Ikkaku, what happened?” Renji asked again, following him around.

“…” Ikkaku stared at the dartboard on the wall, cracking his neck on both sides, stretching his body to try to work out the pain. Hisagi had popped him pretty good in the side a couple times with that turnscrew.

“Ikkaku?”

“He fuckin’ cut me off,” he finally growled.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ikkaku's accepted that Yumichika's been stolen away and is still pretty bummed and everything, but y'know, he can deal with it as long as Hisagi stays away from him. Looks like Renji might have a plan to solve everything.

Ikkaku had spent the majority of his week lying on the couch and mourning his loss – when he wasn’t working, that is. When he was at work, he took his frustration out on the blown transmission of this fucked Subaru. If only he could work with people as well as he did with hunks of metal, maybe his life wouldn’t be such a fucking mess.

_ ‘What horrible luck I have.’ _

Ikkaku closed his eyes again miserably, air from the ceiling fan lightly hitting him where he was sprawled on the couch, shirtless. Fuck. He was feeling particularly lonesome today. His apartment was just so…  _ empty _ and quiet. Maybe he oughta’ get a lizard or something.

He was still pissed at Hisagi for what he’d done, but he’d gotten over his violent rage and was pretty sure that he could see his face again without smashing a chair over it. Thing was, he couldn’t test this theory because he hadn’t seen Hisagi in a while - Yumichika either, for that matter.

Well, not seeing Yumichika was a matter of choice. He _could_ go back to see him again maybe, but he was Hisagi’s now – it was too late. Ikkaku knew when he’d been beat, and Hisagi had beat him pretty good. He’d swiped Yumichika away and Ikkaku wasn’t going to make a fool out of himself by being that one desperate guy who lusts after another man’s honey. That fucker had gotten what he’d wanted: he'd humiliated him and snatched Yumichika from his clutches before he’d even really had a chance. He’d  _ never _ stood a chance, had he. Whatever.

He let out a long sigh, scratching his scabbed belly with his bandaged hand. It was okay, really. Sure, he was bummed out and down on himself, but he’d get over it. He felt like he’d let this whole crush thing get way out of hand. Maybe somewhere inside he’d thought, ‘damn, my friend’s getting married. I’m running out of time,’ and had blown everything out of proportion. Perhaps he’d gotten overly hopeful and then had taken it too personally when Hisagi had jumped in to ‘cockblock’ him or whatever.  _ Whatever.  _ It didn’t matter now.

Ah, well even if it was all a fluke caused by some fear of inadequacy, it didn’t change the way he felt. He’d really liked Yumichika quite a bit, and that was something. Not to mention, he was the first person he’d met in a long time who’d made him feel like getting off his ass and making a change. No one had ever made him try so hard for something other than Kenpachi, but that was a different story. Yumichika, he’d placed so much hope on Yumichika that he’d made him into this thing that had represented a lot more than what he actually was. It hadn’t been about  _ Yumichika _ as a person anymore, had it? He’d thought he’d really liked Yumichika, but maybe it hadn’t been about him in particular. Could it have been anybody and still have evoked this feeling within him?  Maybe.

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe that was why it had upset him so much.

Yumichika was all of his fears of turning thirty and being unmarried, of never having children, of living the majority of his adult life alone while everyone around him found somebody to love them – and it had been onset by the fact that a friend that was  _ younger _ than him was settling down while he still had nobody to be with. Maybe some unconscious part of him had gotten scared and then he’d just seen Yumichika and thought, ‘might as well,’ or ‘good enough,’ or ‘last chance.’

Surely it wasn’t like that? That made Yumichika seem so... ordinary, so very  _not special -_ and he  _felt_ special, at least to Ikkaku he did.

Was it possible though? Was he that desperate not to end up alone? He wasn’t even  _ lonely _  though _. _ Maybe… maybe  _ that _ was it. Maybe he felt like he  _ should _ be and was trying to act how a normal person would if they were lonely. Fuck, that made no sense. Why should he start giving a shit about being a conformist now when he never had before?

No, Ikkaku wasn’t lonely exactly, but he'd always kept it in mind that someday he  _ might _ be lonely, and so whenever he’d thought of the future, his young naïve teenage brain had vaguely conjured up the idea of finding a partner and getting married one day – because that was just a normal part of growing up and being an adult, right? Yumichika had symbolized that person he’d built up in his mind that he’d always figured he’d meet one day, the one that might stir his interest and excite him and wake him up in ways that it seemed like others couldn’t. He’d always hoped someone like that was out there, and maybe hoping for so long without them showing up had gotten him worried. Maybe he’d been nervous as that number thirty had started approaching and then he’d met Yumichika and felt a little flutter and had gotten over-excited.

. . . It… it  _ could  _ be that, but… well, it didn’t really matter now, did it?

Nah, he didn’t really care much what the feelings were based on, because they were there and they weren’t going away. The important part was that Ikkaku had been alone for a long fucking time, absently wondering when the right person would somehow fall into his life in a stroke of luck, and then Yumichika had suddenly been  _ there _ and he hadn’t been prepared.

Ikkaku had let his dating life just passively bumble along for so long that the thought that he might ever fall for someone and love them had faded from his mind – and because of that, he wasn’t prepared to do so. He didn’t know how to be in love or how to show his interest or how to be romantic. He damn well knew he hadn’t the skill to really sweep Yumichika off his feet or charm him. That was part of why it had been so fucking hard to approach him and even  _ talk _ to him when he was twenty-fucking-eight and far too old to be shy or nervous about asking someone out. The thought of how easily he could fuck up because of his lack of experience had been quite terrifying, and he’d let his fear get the better of him – he’d hesitated and had lost out on something that could’ve turned out to be the next great adventure of his life. He’d ensured his own defeat through self-doubt.

That had always been something he secretly dreaded: looking up and having the action be over, being stuck somewhere while things went on without him, hesitating at the wrong moment and missing out – and it had come full circle. He’d been a self-fulfilling prophecy.

It wasn’t so easy for him to just shrug it off and tell himself that plenty of fish saying, because he wasn’t in the sea, he was in a tidepool; his selection was comparatively small. It was actually really hard for Ikkaku to find someone he liked enough to actually go to so much trouble for. He already had a hard time warming up to people in general, and if you added that into the mix, it largely accounted for why his love affairs had been nearly nonexistent if you looked over the full scope of his adult life.

But no, it was still worse. After he’d met Yumichika, somewhere inside him, for a  _ moment _ , Ikkaku had really let himself think that  _ this was it _ . So few people made him feel that way – like he actually had a prayer of functioning in a normal relationship – that he wasn’t sure how many chances he’d have with this. On top of it, now that he was getting older, those chances were growing steadily slimmer. Maybe he’d deluded himself into believing that Yumichika was his last shot or something; it’d explain why it hurt so bad to know that he’d blown his chance. It kinda’ did feel like there was no hope left for him and that he’d never be happy.

Of course, he knew pinning all his hopes on one person like that and thinking his life was over without them was ridiculous – he was just wallowing – but all the same, it did sorta’ feel that way and it did kinda’ sting.

Whatever, though. It had never been guaranteed that Yumichika would've said yes to him anyways, even if he'd been prepared to fight Hisagi for his hand.  Yumichika hadn’t even really liked him in the first place, right? Sure, there had been a couple moments that had made Ikkaku think so, but there had never really been anything  _ there. _ It had probably just been Ikkaku hoping so desperately for a positive response that he’d just seen what he’d wanted to see.

But… his feelings… even if they had been based on nonsense and insecurities, it didn’t mean he hadn’t felt them. It didn’t mean he hadn’t wanted or imagined or  _ hoped _ . It didn’t mean that this didn’t hurt. That's all it took to make them real.

He'd accepted the fact that Yumichika would never love him; Ikkaku could swallow that - what hurt most now was the shame and the humiliation of being tossed aside and treated the way he had been by Hisagi. He and Hisagi had argued badly once before, but he’d thought all of that was behind them,  _ way  _ behind them. Hisagi had been trying to make amends for that ever since, and Ikkaku had long forgiven him. He’d been sure that fight had been ancient history, but maybe some resentment had lingered. That was another whole pile of shit that Ikkaku didn’t want to work through. 

Not that he even  _ could _ .  Hisagi hadn’t even come in to  _ work _ for a couple days now, and he and Renji had no idea where that guy was. 

Needless to say, things had been awkward at the garage – although they’d gotten a lot better after Ikkaku had washed the blood off the floor. Kenpachi didn’t give a shit about their little tiff as long as they got their hours in and completed their tasks, although Ikkaku was a little embarrassed about how nuts he’d gone on Hisagi in front of his boss. Renji was painfully awkward about the whole situation, which Ikkaku could understand, since two people he really respected and cared about suddenly fucking hated each other. Poor guy probably didn’t know who to side with.

Anyways, Renji had been driving Ikkaku to work ever since Hisagi had disappeared. A couple times he’d had to come into Ikkaku’s apartment and drag him out of bed and make him shower and eat, since he’d drank a lot after everything had gone down – the crafty bastard had thrown out his alcohol and had taken all his exercise tapes too.

Yeah, Ikkaku had been a mess for a couple days, but he was getting his shit back together pretty okay now, alright? It was whatever; he’d lost his chance with Yumichika and somehow had infuriated his friend enough to cause the whole thing. Life went on. He still had both his legs and both his arms, a young body, and a pair of healthy lungs; things couldn’t be  _ that _ bad. Not to say he wasn’t bummed out anymore, but he wasn’t mad anymore and he wasn’t going to spend any longer being a sad-sack, because depressed-Ikkaku was the  _ worst. _ That guy  _ sucked. _

He was getting over it, but it was a little difficult with the way Renji kept fucking  _ bringing it up. _ It was understandable, he supposed, since Renji hadn’t caught half of the shit they’d been talking about during their initial fight until Ikkaku had later explained what had brought it on. In Renji’s eyes, Ikkaku had just given Hisagi a punch to the face as a ‘hello’ and then beaten him to shit, and then they’d started screaming hurtful junk and had gone for the kill.

Anyways, after gaining an explanation, Renji had sided with him, which made Ikkaku feel sort of better – he’d been wronged by a close friend, damnit, people had  _ better _ sympathize with him! He hadn’t done  _ shit  _ to deserve that!

When he was at work that day, at some point, Renji turned the music down and told him very directly, “Listen, hey, listen’a’ me. I talked to Shuuhei-senpai.” Ikkaku actually took a minute to realize who he meant, because he hadn’t heard Hisagi’s first name in months due to how pissy he’d get if anyone called him that. He wondered if it was because that's what Kira called him.

Ikkaku stared back at Renji, waiting for the verdict, but Renji seemed to be waiting for the same thing. Finally, Ikkaku prompted, “And?”

“He can’t be reasoned with,” Renji informed with a displeased frown. Ikkaku nodded knowingly, turning away, having expected that answer.

Then Renji recaptured his attention when he went on to say, rather reluctantly, “Ichigo wanted’a’ go out with his buddy at this club, but he wanted me ta’ come with’m’ too, so I went… an’ when Ichigo went off ta’ meet the guy somewhere in the back, I saw Hisagi with their group an’ he was with Yumichika. They’ve gone out a couple times. It really sounded like maybe… they  _ slept _ together…” It was safe to say that if the source of that information was Hisagi, it might be false, since Hisagi had been known to say he’d slept with people that he hadn’t, but even so, Ikkaku had a feeling that this time it may be true.

Needless to say, that just about broke Ikkaku’s hardly-recovered heart. “A’ course he did,” Ikkaku heard himself say. “Of  _ course _ he fucking did.” Next thing he knew, Renji had a grip on his arm. He saw his fist fall away from the wall. He looked at his split knuckles; that kind of hurt.

They’d slept together, huh?

Ikkaku just blinked, eyes unfocused, his face carefully calm while his brain sheltered a fury that grew the longer he allowed that to sink in: Hisagi fucking Yumichika for no other reason than to shove a huge middle finger in his face.

How low was he going to bring Ikkaku before he felt he’d been punished enough for whatever the fuck he thought he’d done? If this was still about Rangiku, then Ikkaku didn’t get what the hell had motivated Hisagi to do this. Ikkaku hadn’t once gotten in the way of Hisagi trying to woo her - the only other explanation was that he was _jealous_ or something, and that couldn't be it.  What was there to be jealous of?

It made no fucking sense to him. He could’ve spoken up and talked to Ikkaku as one man to another, but no, Hisagi was gonna’ go and purposefully sleep with Yumichika just to hurt him as badly as he fucking could. How low was he going to fucking take him?

“You okay? Listen, listen’a’ me, it’s… it’s probly’ not true,” Renji said sorrowfully, a hand on his shoulder. Ikkaku grabbed a water bottle and cracked it open, taking a glug. He felt fucking sick.

“Don’t sugarcoat things. If it’s true, it’s true. He  _ said _ it. Now it’s out there. No point tryin’a’ shelter me,” Ikkaku muttered, wiping his cheek and accidentally peeling off the butterfly-bandage that was over the scabbed-up gash on his face. “Damn, how much is he gonna’ twist these fuckin’ screws before he’s satisfied?!”

A whole new wave of despair and humiliation hit him in the face. Before, losing Yumichika hadn’t _really_ been a sure thing, but now it was. Hisagi had taken it  _ there _ , and Ikkaku had lost someone he’d cared about. Sure, he hadn’t known Yumichika well enough to love him or anything, but he’d liked him and he’d hoped. He’d felt those feelings. He’d finally had his heart set on someone and that had been ruined by someone he’d thought was his friend, and it was all because of a woman who was worth  _ so _ much more than just something to be fought over.

Hisagi too. Ikkaku liked Hisagi, really he did. Before everything with Kira, he’d just been mildly annoying but a real sweet guy, like Renji, but after the fact, there had been a lot of new facets to his personality that were particularly grating. His verbal tic, for one, and his constant smoking and coffee slugging, the way he was cruel to Renji, who he’d previously always been very kind towards. Not to mention the way he acted like he was drowning in babes when in reality he was actually really sad and lonely. It didn’t matter though – Ikkaku was still big brother even if little brother was being a shit. Despite all that, he’d held out on the trust that the old Hisagi was still there, and he’d told him about a very personal desire, that Yumichika had been his new dream.

And Hisagi was fucking him.

“I can’t fuckin’ believe this,” Ikkaku grumbled.

Renji nodded, frowning. “Yeah, I think he’s taken this kinda’ far. I tried ta’ talk to’m’, but I couldn’t get through ta’ him. He didn’t wanna’ hear anything I had ta’ say. He’s… he’s never talked ta’ me like that before, callin’ me out my name…  _ Not _ super.” Renji ran a hand over his forehead. “I had ta’ go home an’ leave Ichigo with his buddy. I just… couldn’t stay. This… this whole thing is really stressing me out. I think it’s affecting Ichigo too, maybe I was an asshole to ‘im when I left the bar. He was acting really weird when I called him at lunch today to see if he was home yet after the club… and… I dunno’, it’s messed up. I wish none a’ this had ever happened. Hisagi-san used ta’ be so nice ta’ me.”

“What the fuck is with him,” Ikkaku muttered, taking the conversation back to Hisagi. “I mean… I  _ liked _ him, he was a really nice guy, y’know? Nicest guy I ever met, really. All about savin’ the world and justice an’ shit. Wanted to be a cop an’ a journalist an’ did all that charity work - he wouldn’t’a’ hurt a fuckin’ bug . . . Now he’s havin’ revenge sex just ta’ fuck me over as much as he can.”

Renji was quiet for a long time, and he knew they were both thinking of Kira Izuru. “Listen, grief does weird things to people,” he finally said quietly, turning away.

Ikkaku felt like he understood that better than most at the moment. Fuck, he hadn’t even really lost anything recently, since he and Yumichika had never even dated, but maybe that was why it was so disappointing. He hadn’t even gotten the  _ chance  _ to… No, that wasn’t true. He’d had opportunities, he’d  _ had _ chances, but he’d let them go by, he’d let them slip past until it  _ had _ been too late, until someone had cut that opportunity off by force, until the decision to act had been in someone else’s hands, and Hisagi’s hands had crumpled up Ikkaku’s hopes and thrown them away.

He could fucking imagine it, he could  _ see _ it: Hisagi charming Yumichika with a brilliantly faked smile, and then the pull of the curtains, and then their silhouettes embracing, and then… and  _ then… _

“I gotta’ hit it,” Ikkaku muttered, going into the restroom and leaning against the door with his forearm until he felt like he could function without putting his fist through something. He splashed his face with water a couple times and then pissed, staring at the drain while he aimed. Piss going down the drain, that was his love life. Damn it.

He’d like to go rip those silhouettes apart; he wanted to climb in that window in the black-and-white sixties-movie world where nothing racey could be shown on TV and just take the subtext right out. He wanted to pull the curtain back and  _ see _ it, make everything plain and out in the open, and then he wanted to beat Hisagi until he was too bloody and maimed for Yumichika to ever want him again. He’d like to take Yumichika by the shoulders and shake him and  _ shake _ him until he wanted him instead, until he realized that Hisagi was doing this with him on false pretenses.

He couldn’t do that though. He couldn’t stick his foot in things; Hisagi had orchestrated everything in such a way that if Ikkaku interfered, it would wreck things even worse. If he went over there and clobbered Hisagi again, if he tried to tell Yumichika that Hisagi was playing him, it would just reflect badly on  _ him. _

If there was any glimmer of goodness in this mess, it was Rangiku. If nothing else, he had met Rangiku and made friends with her. Sure, she was indirectly the cause of  _ everything _ , since by even talking to her, Hisagi, being the fucking nutcase he apparently now was, had screwed him over and kept him from getting Yumichika. 

Being acquainted with her had caused all this crap, and Ikkaku had reason to irrationally project blame on her, but wouldn’t that be shitty? If he threw out the one good thing that had come from all of this, wouldn’t that make it all for nothing? Nah, it wasn’t her fault; she was cool and smart and really nice, and Ikkaku liked her. He didn’t need Hisagi’s fucking permission to do so.

When he left the bathroom, Renji watched him concernedly for a while, but he just got back to work. After a few minutes of silence, when it was clear to Renji that Ikkaku had no desire to continue the conversation himself, he took it upon himself to do so.

“You’re not givin’ up, are you?” Ikkaku grunted in reply. “Ikkaku, c’mon!  _ Really? _ ”

Ikkaku sighed and turned back to him. He knew Renji looked up to him and Hisagi, but this was ridiculous. Ikkaku had his limits; he was a human being and he knew when he’d been beat. He couldn’t solve everything. He didn’t  _ know _ everything, no matter how it seemed to Renji. Big brother gave up sometimes too.

“What wouldja’ have me do?” he asked gruffly, but with a degree of calm, “Punch both of ‘em in the face? Break their bones? Yumichika chose who he wanted. I can’t make ‘im be anythin’ other’n’ what he is. I can’t get pissed at him for likin’ someone other’n’ me – my masculinity’s not so fragile that I can’t take ‘no’ for an answer. An’ Hisagi? Well, he fucked me over and made a fuckin’ fool outta’ me, and he swiped Yumichika just ta’ rub it in. He got me. He got me good. There’s nothin’ for it, Renji.  _ Yes _ , I’m givin’ up. I didn’t have very good luck this time around, okay? So there.”

Renji seemed very dissatisfied with this. That was probably his romantic heart talking. Yes, Renji was a romantic; the kid loved love and  _ being  _ in love, and he wanted everyone else to love it too, which was why he urged Hisagi to go back to Kira and encouraged Ikkaku to find someone to slam the sheets with. Renji was that guy who’d had frivolous amounts of miscellaneous casual sex, yet still believed in that soulmate crap. He was the guy who had condoms on him at any given time and who knew more about the pleasure centers of the human body than a physician, but was still the type to be heartbroken by sad romantic movies. He knew how to lay it down wherever with whoever to get them to come home with him, but he still idealized romance and how things were ‘ _ supposed’  _ to be when you were in love. He was  _ that _ guy who bought roses and played music on the boombox and then fucked your brains out better than you could dream. He could probably charm the pants off and the heart out of anybody with enough effort. The kid loved sex and he loved love, and that was the way his world worked. All that being said, when Hisagi and Kira had fallen apart, Renji had been aghast – and now Ikkaku with Yumichika. He couldn’t take any more broken hearts. He didn’t want to accept that Ikkaku hadn’t ‘gotten the girl’ and rode off into the sunset with - ahem - with _him_.

Ikkaku could see Renji struggling to argue, and just listened on patiently. He’d accepted it, Renji hadn’t yet. It was that simple.

“But… but that’s not  _ fair! _ Listen, listen, that’s not even fair! Hey, listen’a’ me! You don’t like hardly anyone, but you really tried, you tried so hard, you wanted- you- _ ”  _ He was starting to become so upset that he was doing that damn stuttering thing. “Listen, okay?!”

Ikkaku  _ was _ listening, and Renji should know him well enough by now to know that. It was kind of annoying, because Renji said that shit an awful lot, but Ikkaku didn’t get on his case about it, because he knew he only did it because it  _ killed _ him when people didn’t take him seriously or ignored him, as he’d grown up with no status and had been a delinquent most of his life. He hated when people didn’t pay him attention when he was trying to tell them something, and worse was when he thought they were just writing him off as stupid. He couldn’t stand the idea of people not listening to him when he felt he had something important to say – Renji knew he was smart and that what he had to say was worth hearing – and this frustration became even worse when his upset caused him to be unable to get the words out right. Ikkaku hated when he got like that; it had been a more common problem when he’d been younger, but over time it had faded.

It was just a testament to the stress of this entire situation that Renji was getting this way now, shouting at Ikkaku repeatedly to listen to his words even though he wasn’t really saying anything yet.

Ikkaku understood the meaning he was trying to get across despite the stuttering though. He appreciated the indignance Renji was showing on his behalf, but it didn’t really help, did it. Sure it wasn’t fair, but who the fuck cared about that?

“Anyone ever tell you life’s not fair, Kid?”

“Yeah,” Renji said seriously, expression darkening. Ikkaku looked up, knowing that against Renji, the ‘who’s-been-fucked-over-more-by-life’ game was a game he was gonna’ lose, and  _ spectacularly – _ which wasn’t to say Ikkaku’d had an easy time growing up. Renji’s chin jutted out in challenge. Ikkaku glared right back.

“All my fucking life I’ve heard that. I was born with nothing,” Renji stressed, “I grew  _ up  _ with nothing. I  _ was _ nothing. I worked hard and scrabbled for everything I could get. My grades were the top a’ tha’ class when I finished high school and that’s  _ hard ta’ do _ , but guess what? No one gave a fuck.” He sounded very bitter then, rattling off all his misfortune like it still pained him even so long afterwards, “I didn’t get enough financial aid for college. I had no money for school at  _ all. _ I wouldn’ta’ needed a lot ‘cause a’ how I had no family, but I didn’t have enough for even that little bit. I had no job, no future;  _ nothin’ _ . My only friend was livin’ the good life ‘cause she’d gotten adopted, but I never did because I got labeled a problem child. I was on a one-way track to bein’ a factory worker or a drug-dealer.”

He crossed his arms then, still staring him down. “I was devastated of course, that everything I’d worked for had gone ta’ shit. Since I wasn’t in school anymore an’ was too old to be in the orphanage, I was on the streets. Took a deal selling drugs in a gang. Didn’t see any other option at the time when I was given the offer. A’ course I made the mistake a’ using while selling. I got into debt real quick ‘cause a’ my addiction.” Renji clenched his fists then, shifting uncomfortably, repeating that. “I  _ already _ had nothing, and on top of it, then I had  _ debt.”  _ His mouth contorted in an ugly sneer, “I was  _ never _ gonna’ go ta’ school or be anything other than a tramp, even though I’d worked so hard. It was too late for me. I was born with nothin’ and I got screwed into always havin’ nothin’.” Renji stared at Ikkaku hard. “Life’s not fair. You try your best an’ you get kicked in the balls.”

Ikkaku made the mistake of grimacing in satisfaction and turned away, only to jump when Renji threw something at him, causing a loud clang when it hit the pavement.

“Well  _ fuck that!” _ he hollered. “Who gives a shit?!”

“Fuck off. I’ll give a shit if I want to. I got stabbed in the back; I’ve got a right ta’ be miserable.” Renji advanced on him, scowling.

“ _S_ __hut_ up.  _ Stop acting so pathetic,” he snapped. “You’re a grown man – don’t pretend like you’re not in control a’ your life. You’re always tellin’ me ta’ quit bein’ helpless, well what’re  _ you _ doin’, huh? Just shut up and listen’a’ me.” Ikkaku glared at him, although he could see it had taken Renji some guts to talk to him like that.

Renji waited for a moment, seeing that Ikkaku had gone silent and wasn’t about to smack him down for that. Then he went on with his story, satisfied that he had his attention back.

“So I meet Ichigo an’ he’s this smart medical student, right? He’d gotten a full ride to the best university around; he was going places. He had  _ dreams _ and a  _ future _ and a  _ family,”  _ Renji rasped wistfully, but then his voice warped to that of abject fury, “an’ I fuckin’  _ hated him! _ ” He became bitter and sad then, shouting at Ikkaku, “He had everything that I wanted, and  _ shit _ , I’d tried so hard for all of that, but just because I’d been born in shitty circumstances, I didn’t get to ever have any of it! I got fucked over and then my life went down the drain! I was in a fucking  _ pit _ an’ there was no getting’ out! Life’s not fair!”

“You’re arguing against your own point, dipshit!” Ikkaku shouted back in his face, getting a little irritated. He didn’t wanna’ hear Renji’s life story. He already knew. He knew where he was going with this too and he didn’t appreciate the hint.

Renji grabbed his shirt. “He beat sense inta’ me, an’ I’ll do it ta’ you too!”

“Try me, Cherry-boy!” Ikkaku snapped, glaring. “You dunno’ anything, you little bastard!” Renji punched him right in the mouth, holding him by the collar.

“Shut the fuck up and listen! You’re being  _ stupid _ , Ikkaku!” Renji spit, and Ikkaku shut up for once, giving him the benefit of the doubt, but only because the little shit had had the nerve to actually hit him. Renji’s fists tightened on his shirt as he went on, actually  _ smiling _ a little, but it wasn’t a good smile. It was the kind of smile that came from a place of pain and bitterness.

“I got desperate one day. Debt’s pilin’ up. My organs are gonna’ be sold on the black market if I don’t get the money,” he muttered with a morbid laugh. “I’m a fuckin’ crackhead, right? I’m a little punk in a gang who’s a  _ crackhead, _ and I can’t get money through honest means. No one’ll hire me. I gotta’ steal.” Renji’s voice made this weird noise, as if even now, he was ashamed that he’d gotten to that point. “’M  _ desperate.  _ I need a fix so badly an’ I’m  _ so hungry _ but I can’t spend any a’ what little cash I got because I need ta’ save it ta’ pay for my own life. D’you know what that’s like, being so desperate that you think about throwing your own life away just for- for a bag a fuckin’  _ dust? _ ”

He went on, blinking a little, his voice still raspy and sour, “So I try ta’ think, right? If anyone has to go down, if I’ve gotta’ steal, if I’ve gotta’ be  _ scum _ , who’s it gonna’ be? I mean, I’m not a monster, right? I don’t wanna’ hurt anyone who doesn’t deserve it, so I think I’ll find someone shitty that should be put in their place.” Renji laughed a little more then, “It wasn’t a hard choice. I thought Ichigo was doin’ so good that he should be taken down a notch. So I mug ‘im, right? But he was tough, and we beat each other ta’ shit  _. . .  _ I _ … _ I dunno’ if he even had his wallet that day.” Renji’s grip on him started to seem less like a threat and more like he was hanging on for his own support.

“He knew me by then – he knew who I was. He’d seen me around, an’ he wanted’a’ know what the fuck my problem was, an’ I told ‘im everything. Dunno’ why I did, but I did. I fucking spat’n’s’ face an’ told ‘im I hated ‘im, fuckin’ privileged kid. Told ‘im life had ground me under its heel an’ torn me apart n’ that there hadn’t been a damned thing I coulda’ done about it. Told him I was deep in some shit because my life sucked an’ that there was no way out. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he had so much more’n’ I did just ‘cause I’d been born at the bottom. ‘It’s not fuckin’ fair, Kurosaki.’ Know what he said?”

Ikkaku stared back at him coldly, blood filling his mouth from where his teeth had been jammed by Renji’s fist. His expression completely deadpan, he listened on to the story he’d heard many times before as indifferently as he could. It was cutting a little closer to home than he would’ve liked, because this time it had real personal relevance.

“He said  _ ‘ _ grow the  _fuck_ up _ ,’”  _ Renji hissed right in Ikkaku’s face, making it clear that he was speaking directly to him. “‘Fuck you an’ your ‘life’s not fair’ shit. Everyone has problems. No one cares. Get the fuck over it and slap life in the face instead a’ being miserable. Get your shit together and save yourself. Quit bein’ pathetic and just keep going. Then maybe your life won’t suck so much.’ Then he punched me right in the eye and I blacked out.” Ikkaku shoved Renji’s hands off him to get him away from him, not liking Renji to be so close when he was emotional.

Renji crossed his arms, still staring him down, his voice becoming flat and calm as he got a hold on himself. “Took me ta’ tha’ ER an’ paid for my expenses. We became friends after that. I did a few stints selling drugs an’ sucking dicks, and I got outta’ my debt. Was back at my starting point, except I didn’t have a clean record by then. Was even _harder_ for me ta’ reach my dreams. I was a fuckin’ crybaby about it too. Ichigo wouldn’t take any of my ‘woe-is-me’ shit, though; he made me keep goin’. He got me to study for an entrance exam and apply for a bunch of scholarships. I put down for loans from a few banks, and a lot of those weren’t accepted, because by then I’d been arrested a bunch of times, but shit, my transcript was still excellent and eventually somethin’ worked. I passed the exam and I was accepted into school with a grant. By my second year, I was goin’ for free an’ doin’ what I’d dreamed a’ doing. Ichigo was still at my back. We fell in love and moved in together. I finished school and got a job here. He’s doing his fuckin’ _residency_ in like a year, an’ we’re getting married,” he summed up.

“What’s the fucking moral of this story?” Ikkaku grumbled.

“It’s that my life got real shitty ‘cause I kept  _ whining _ that life wasn’t fair instead a’  _ doin’ _ something! If I’d spent more time trying and pounding through all the shit I’d had to deal with, maybe I woulda’ made somethin’ a’ myself a lot sooner than I did!” He pointed at Ikkaku then. “ _ Don’t _ get all miserable an’ shit. This crap didn’t happen because life ain’t fair, it happened because our friend did a shitty thing ta’ you, but that doesn’t mean you have ta’ let that stop you. You don’t have ta’ let that be the end of it. You can  _ have _ the last word with life and beat its ass. You’re Ikkaku.”

Ikkaku stared at Renji for a long time. “There’s a difference between you an’ I, Kid. When I get kicked in the face too many times, I know when ta’ walk away.”

“Are you saying I have no pride?” Renji grit out.

“I’m not sayin’  _ shit _ about you. I’m sayin’  _ I  _ know a lost cause when I see it,” Ikkaku retorted.

“Oh fuck you,” Renji scoffed. “What’s the real problem here? You’re embarrassed? Get over it! Fight for what you want! That’s whatcha’ always tell me! Don’t you  _ want _ Yumichika?”

“Of course I do! God damn!” Ikkaku shouted, throwing his hands up. “There’s nothin’ I can do about that, though! You said yourself that Hisagi can’t be reasoned with. I sure as  _ fuck  _ can’t tell Yumichika he’s with a nutcase without lookin’ triflin’ as hell! There’s nothing left for me ta’ do, Abarai. It’s time to stop.”

“Who the fuck are you?!”

“Get tha’  _ fuck _ off my back! I don’t need you!” Ikkaku raged. “I don’t need you ta’ try an’ encourage me, a’right? I’ve already decided enough’s enough, so  _ fuck off!” _ He threw a hand in the air, “Tch’! You an’ your  _ love! _ Just fuck off, okay?! Fuck tha’  _ fuck off! _ ”

“Oh fuck no, Ikkaku, you’re  _ not  _ turnin’ on me, I didn’t do shit ta’ you!” Renji retorted rather defensively. “I’m the only one who’s tryin’a’ help you, don’t you  _ dare _ turn this on me.”

“You’re… you’re right,” Ikkaku said with a frustrated sigh. Renji wasn’t trying to hurt him or rub it in. It wasn’t  _ his _ fault that any of this had happened. “I’m just…  _ fuck!  _ I’m mad at him, okay? If he hadn’t- Guh!”

“I don’t think you’re mad at Hisagi-senpai,” Renji pointed out rather bluntly, “I think you’re just jealous that Yumichika picked him over you.” Ikkaku was silent, but only because he’d been struck dumb by the stones that had probably taken Renji.

“You can’t put all the blame on him, at least,” he said less harshly, only slightly scolding, “It’s not like he completely screwed you, Ikkaku; you did it to yourself. You  _ did  _ have chances ta’ ask Yumichika out. I’m not saying Hisagi-senpai had the right ta’ treat you like garbage, but even so…”

“Yeah, I guess…” Ikkaku folded his arms, sighing again and leaning against the tan hood of a Honda element. “Sorry fer’… biting your head off,” he said awkwardly. “I didn’t mean that shit, ‘m just ticked.”

“Nah, it’s cool. I’d be fuckin’ furious if someone up an’ took Ichigo from me.” Ikkaku smirked a little. That wasn’t true. Renji would be too busy being heartbroken to be angry if that happened – and then he’d be busy trying to figure out how to win Ichigo back. The poor kid’d be lovesick down to the bones. “Listen Ikkaku, I know you write me off a lot, but this time I know what I’m talkin’ about. You oughta’ give this another shot.”

“No point.” Renji sighed through the nose at that.

“I don’t understand why you’re turning tail, but I do think that what Hisagi-senpai did was awful, so I’m still gonna’ help you out anyways.”

“Look, I appreciate that, but there’s nothin’ for you ta’ do, Gaki. I swear, you’re like a kid who’s tryin’a’ keep his parents from divorcing. It ain’t gonna’ work. It’ll just end up fuckin’  _ you _ up when things don’t work out. Just like with Kira and Hisagi. Don’t get involved in that mess. We’d just make it worse.”

Renji hummed then, drumming his fingers on his chin. “You might be on ta’ something there.”

“What, givin’ up?”

“No. Izuru,” Renji said seriously, like he’d just worked out something very crucial. “Listen, hey, listen’a’ me.”

“Spit it out, Kid,” Ikkaku prompted, knowing that Renji liked to be cued in when he thought he’d come up with something brilliant.

“You can’t get Yumichika ta’ leave Shu- ah…” Renji paused, snapping his fingers a few times to rewire his brain, “ _ Hisagi _ -san without lookin’ like a tool, an’ Hisagi-san won’t listen’a’ you, so the next best thing is ta’ get Izuru back inta’ tha’ picture. That’ll make Yumichika an’ Senpai split up on their own. Your hands’ll be clean, Hisagi-senpai’ll be back with Izuru, and Yumichika’ll be free ta’ date  _ you _ . It’s perfect!”

Ikkaku grimaced skeptically at Renji’s idealistic romanticism. “Kid, things don’t work out all nice an’ pretty like that’n’ real life.”

“It’s worth a try, right? You think Yumichika’s worth givin’ it a try, don’tcha’?” Renji prompted. “You want Shuuhei and Izuru ta’ be happy again, right? You want everyone ta’ be together again, right?  _ Right?  _ C’mon, c’mon! My  _ plan! _ ”

“God,  _ okay! _ Just lay off for a minute!” Ikkaku shouted exasperatedly. “I’ll go talk ta’ Kira,” he conceded. Renji fist-pumped, hissing a ‘yesss.’ “Sheesh, you’re annoying.”

“Hahaha,” Renji cackled immaturely. “I win!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ikkaku huffed, quite put-upon. “So where’s Kira livin’ these days?” Now that he thought on it, he hadn’t gone to see Kira since those two had moved apart. He knew that Renji had . . . Speaking of, Renji had never mentioned how that had turned out.

“Koto!” Renji chirped eagerly.

“What the fuck, that’s like an  _ hour _ from here! Why’d he move so damn far away?” Renji couldn’t be discouraged, excitedly giving him the address, bouncy as fuck at the idea that everything might work out as perfectly as his plan had been orchestrated. Ikkaku told him to take a chill pill.

“I’ll cover your shift, Ikkaku-senpai, just go right now! Please, hurry!” Renji urged charismatically, practically shoving Ikkaku out the door.

“… Okay… I’ll go see’m’,” he agreed begrudgingly, then pointing over his shoulder. “Only if you cover my shift.”

“I already said I would, just go!”

“Fine, fine.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past reared its ugly head once again, sending Ikkaku's life back into shambles. What's really going on with Kira?

Ikkaku had soon found out that Izuru’s current residence wasn’t part of the bus route, and he ended up having to walk there after getting off the train. By the time he found it – an aging danchi – it was the early evening. It was probably about five-thirty when he got to the right room number and knocked on the door.

As Ikkaku’s fist hit the wood, the door pushed open, which made him realize that it’d been slightly ajar. He stood there and stared into the dark rooms, all the hairs standing up on his neck. Okay, he was completely fucking spooked now.

He checked once more to make sure he’d gotten the right room, swallowed, and called out, “Kira? Oi!”

“Who’s there?” he heard in reply, along with some clinking glass, and then Ikkaku noticed that there was indeed some candlelight coming from inside. He put a cautious foot into Kira’s house.  
  
“It’s Ikkaku. Thought I’d visit. I’m coming in please,” he mumbled customarily, coming inside and closing the door behind him.

“Oh Ikkaku, yes come in. It’s good to see you,” Kira replied sunnily, and Ikkaku smirked a little in response as they exchanged the usual ‘hisashiburi.’ It took a moment for him to spot the blonde, but he was there in the kitchen with the lights dimmed down to the lowest setting possible. Ikkaku was pleased to see that it wasn’t actually candles; that would’ve been some spooky shit.

Honestly, he'd felt a little awkward about coming here. He hasn't seen Kira in a while. After everything had gone to shit, Ikkaku had mostly fallen out of contact with him, relying on Renji for updates. He was relieved that Kira didn't seem to hold a grudge.

“Nice place ya’ got here,” Ikkaku noted, and it _was_ a nice place. It was very clean and well kept, just as he’d expect from Izuru. There were stacks of notebooks on the coffee table, and his radio was playing staticky Bossa Nova. Kira seemed to be cooking something – a single egg, on further observation.

“Thank you. Can I get you a drink?” Izuru offered graciously with a smile, gesturing to a glass of wine he hadn’t noticed. His smile had the same effect as always of softening Ikkaku right up. “It’s no trouble,” he assured, and shit, Ikkaku suddenly realized how much he’d missed Kira. He was just so goddamn considerate.  
  
“Nah, ‘m good,” he declined, no matter how much he’d like to accept – since he wasn’t one to say ‘no’ to alcohol, usually. He was here on business, which was rather sad . . . He really had fucking missed Kira. He should’ve come to visit sooner; it’d been _months_ since he’d even seen him or talked to him. He’d always been bad at maintaining friendships, but _come on._

“What do I owe this visit to, Madarame-san?” Izuru asked, eyeing him carefully. Maybe the rumors had been wrong. Kira didn't seem like a mess at all. He seemed pretty okay, actually; solid.

“Ah, right. I gotta’ talk ta’ you about somethin’, if ya’ got time.” Kira waved a hand, saying that he was quite welcome. His rice-cooker dinged, so he scooped his rice into a bowl and then poured his egg out of the pan on top of it.

“You’ll pardon me if I eat my dinner, won’t you?”

“Uh, yeah, do whatcha’ want. It’s your house,” Ikkaku mumbled, drifting around the room as his eye caught a few pictures hanging on the wall. One was a framed newspaper. There were several of them, but Ikkaku lingered on this one, as he recognized it. ‘ _Breakthrough in medical technology at Aoyama Campus.'_   Below was a picture of a young man wearing glasses and a smiling brown-haired girl. Both were wearing lab-coats.

“What did you want to talk about?” Kira asked slowly, politely clearing his throat after taking a few bites of food, eating right at the counter. Ikkaku moved on a little bit, eyes floating towards another photograph of Izuru, Renji, and that same girl. What was her name… Peach-girl or something… Morihina Momo, that sounded right – They had obviously just graduated and were grinning at the camera, the picture of joyful unmarred youth. Kira’s hair was much shorter and not covering his face. Renji’s tattoos were in their first stages, and Peachie was beaming with pride, being squeezed zealously by the both of them.

' _Hisagi took this picture,'_ Ikkaku noted with a frown.

“It’s ta’ do with Hisagi,” he said, receiving no immediate response. No doubt it was a touchy subject.

No, not touchy. It was touchy to bring it up with _Hisagi_. With Kira, it probably caused more pain than offense. The silence seemed more saddened than angry, and Ikkaku didn’t break it, trying to make this as easy as possible for both of them. He hadn’t come here to cause harm, after all.

“I see,” Kira finally replied, prompting him to speak no further. Ikkaku didn’t turn to look at him and continued perusing his wall of photos. There was this one weird one that wasn’t framed. It seemed to be a bunch of snapshots that had been layered together and then pressed between two pieces of glass. There was a blonde child growing up, a few of Hisagi doing goofy things, one of them being him jamming on his guitar and another being him firmly kissing Kira’s cheek. There were several of Kira in different places with different people, but one that particularly bothered him was of Kira and his boss. They were taking up most of the shot, but it was still clear that the man’s arm was over Kira’s shoulders, his hand gripping on quite tightly. There was someone behind Ichimaru who was slightly obscured, not in the focus and covered by Kira’s arm where it was holding the camera to take the photo. Ikkaku could see this faint glint of silver rings that stirred his memory in an unsettling way. 

_'Where have I seen that?...'_

“Well, let’s not avoid it longer than necessary,” Izuru said with a sigh, going to sit on the sofa. Ikkaku followed suit somewhat reluctantly. “You’re going to try and tell me he still loves me and that there’s hope, right? I’m sorry, Madarame-san, I just don’t think things are going to work out. I’ve damaged them beyond repair. Honestly, don’t bother yourself. I’m not worth it,” Kira said with that little demure smile and self-deprecating head dip that Ikkaku _hated._  
  
“Kira,” Ikkaku refuted somewhat gently, because he’d always considered Izuru to be somewhat fragile, especially since everything had happened – big brother had to treat baby brother nicely or he’d make him cry, right?

“He’s been a complete wreck since you guys split up. I dunno’ what went wrong with you two, why you couldn’t work things out. Things were goin’ real well an’ everyone thought that… that you’d gotten better.” Ikkaku cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I dunno’ why everything went ta’ shit again, but’m’ sure it’s just a simple misunderstanding. Ya’ both still love each other, obviously, huh? Maybe if you both just put in a little more effort, then…” Ikkaku trailed of, not liking how contradictory and hypocritical his advice was considering his earlier conversation with Renji about giving up the chase.

"Have you..." He paused, touching on something he'd purposefully avoided thinking about since the day it'd happen. "Have you tried talking about it? Or does it just hurt too bad?..."  
  
“He didn’t understand,” Kira blurted suddenly, his speech somewhat repetitive. “He never understood. I tried to make him understand, I tried to explain, but he was too upset to hear it. He was too distraught. He couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t bear to look me in the eye…” He looked up to Ikkaku then.

“Do you get what that does to a person? … That he couldn’t even look me in the eye when he said he forgave me? …” 

Ikkaku stared back at him for a second, holding a gaze with those deep blue eyes. He was so sad-looking, so… so exhausted. “No,” he replied shortly, because he _didn’t_ know what that was like, and pretending to would be shitty.

“Nobody does . . . ” Kira went on with a watery smile, seeming choked up all of a sudden, to Ikkaku’s alarm.

_'Oh. Tears…'_

Ikkaku lifted a hand quickly as if to stop him from whimpering or crying, but Izuru was hanging on just barely and Ikkaku probably wouldn’t have been able to make himself touch him even if he hadn’t.

His stomach was in knots already just hearing the wet tone of his voice. Ikkaku hated to be around when someone was crying, which was shitty, because it made it seem like he didn’t care, and he did, he really did. Crap, he didn’t want poor Izuru to cry. Had he pushed him too hard? He hadn’t meant to drive him to _tears –_ just back into Hisagi’s arms.

“Well, I can’t blame him, really. How can he stand to talk things out when all I do is drink and cry? Even _I_ don’t want to be around me… Useless. It's all _u_ _seless._ ”

“Hey, whoa, whoa,” Ikkaku muttered, voice going higher in awkwardness as Kira began to sniffle. Fuck, he was crying. “Hey, bring it down. Don’t get like this… C’mon, don’t get like this, Kira,” he begged, putting his hand on Kira’s shoulder and shaking him once gently.

Kira put a hand up to his eyes and held it there, pressing into them like he could keep the tears in, but they seeped out anyways. Ikkaku couldn’t bear to touch him anymore, hands floating nearby awkwardly. Shit, he shouldn't have come here. Renji should've been the one to come, he was so much better with people and being caring and comforting.

“I apologized and apologized, but it never seemed enough. I… I would do anything if only… but… but even when I say sorry, am I really? That’s what’s so disgusting about me. Part of me… wants that back, even though… Oh, it’s all s-so...”

' _Fucked up. It's so fucked up,'_ Ikkaku finished.

Izuru seemed to be talking to himself, because he wasn’t making much sense at all. What came across was that he was distraught, and now was sitting there and sniffling pitifully. Ikkaku had never seen a lonelier sadder sight.

Ikkaku finally made himself pat his shoulder. Izuru just blinked his pretty eyes, pools of moisture just barely held in. Touching him seemed to have been perceived as an invitation to touch _back,_ because his body was sagging against Ikkaku suddenly, causing him to jolt in alarm. He awkwardly let Izuru stay there, unsure of what else to do. “Somebody explain it to me,” Izuru breathed, his tone ghastly and haunted. "I feel alone." Absolutely wretched, he croaked, "Someone tell me what to do."

“Oi, here now,” Ikkaku muttered, letting his hand go back to Kira’s shoulder and awkwardly alternate between just gripping it and offering stiff pats, because even _he_ wasn’t heartless enough to allow Kira to sit there and cry so bitterly all alone on a couch in a dark room.

“Aw, Kira, I wish ya’ wouldn’t look so sad…”

He always felt so horrible when comforting people. He’d think of reassuring things to say and then shoot them down and end up saying nothing. Saying ‘it’s okay’ invalidated how shitty they felt and was just a complete lie. ‘It’ll be okay’ was stupid too, because he can't see the future. ‘Shh’ just made it sound like he was trying to shut them up . . . Even saying ‘I wish you wouldn’t cry’ made it sound like he thought Kira's sadness was annoying and an inconvenience. How was he supposed to be supportive?

Ugh, if Renji were here, he’d know what to do. Or Hisagi.

But he wasn’t here. Ikkaku would have to be Kira’s Hisagi for right now. He’d have to be the support. He had to toughen up and be big brother for once.

“Hey,” Ikkaku mumbled uncomfortably. “Look, I get it. You’re lonely… You just need someone ta’ be there. Well… I’m here?” he attempted, his voice sounding very uncertain and insincere, but Izuru sniffed and seemed comforted.

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you got nothin’ to be sorry for,” Ikkaku cut off sharply. “Don’t gimme’ that bullshit.”

Izuru gave a watery laugh.  
  
“Look, really, it’s fine. Try an’ perk up. You don’t gotta’ worry about nothin’. You can just relax. I’m here,” he promised, putting a hand up to Izuru’s head. He changed his mind about petting his hair and just settled for letting his hand rest there on Izuru’s head, holding it in place. Izuru sniffed a few times, lifting his head slightly, Ikkaku’s grip slipping off.  
  
“You’re here,” Izuru repeated somewhat dazedly, his eyes seeming to go larger, or was that his pupils dilating? Ikkaku mildly noted how blue they were as he looked at his face where it was resting against his shoulder. Izuru kept staring at him, teary-eyed and beautiful, so broken-down that Ikkaku couldn’t stand it. “You won’t leave yet,” Kira mumbled in a monotone, his eyes drilling into Ikkaku’s. “You won’t leave yet,” he repeated, somewhat uncertain.

“Fuck, I oughta’… I oughta’ _shake_ you,” Ikkaku moaned, brow furrowing. He pressed his cheek against Izuru’s forehead so that he didn’t have to look at him.

“Look, Izuru, you gotta’ pull yourself together, an’ I know you can. You’re gonna’ be okay, a’right? You two’ll make it through this. This is just a rough spot. Can’t nobody blame ya’ for goin’ through a rough spot. It’s okay though, as long as someone’s there for you. You don’t need Hisagi; you have us… an’ you have me, I’m here, aren’t I? You ain’t all on your own.”

“… Yes. That’s right.”  
  
Izuru was leaning up suddenly, his blue eyes glittering with unshed tears, set sparkling even brighter in the dim light. Ikkaku watched him mildly as he got up to go get a tissue to dry his eyes with. Except that’s not what he was doing. In one move, Izuru had straddled him on the sofa and grabbed his belt and was… _kissing him._

Alarmed, Ikkaku shoved him off immediately, leaping to his feet. Izuru flopped limply onto the couch. Ikkaku wiped his mouth roughly and then just stared at him for a second and the way he wasn’t moving at all, bereft of energy all of a sudden.  
  
“Kira,” he began lowly, his voice a shaky rasp, his entire body prickling with goosebumps. “Kira, what the _fuck?”_ No response. Ikkaku swallowed hard.

There had been no mistaking the alcohol that had been on his breath… the _taste…_ Ikkaku had heard some things about Izuru turning to booze for comfort, but when he’d gotten here, he’d thought it couldn’t have been true. Izuru had seemed alright, perfectly normal and _fine_ , but it was clear now that he was _not_. He’d done quite a good job at seeming sober because Ikkaku hadn’t been looking for the signs, but it was slipping through now, the slow slurred responses, the emotional reactions, the bad decision making… Ikkaku had never known Izuru to be forward in such a way, or interested in _him_ in the slightest.

That was what made it so awful; Izuru wasn’t interested in _him_. He just felt so alone. He wanted to be loved and taken care of that badly that it didn’t matter. He was just that lonely and abandoned and _drunk_ that he’d stoop that low.

Ikkaku wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, stomach churning. He took a hesitant step forward, checking Kira, but staying out of arm’s reach, worried that he might try to get at him again. Shit, Ikkaku’s hands were trembling a bit; this was really freaking him out. “Oi,” he prodded, nudging Kira’s motionless body once and then retreating a step or two. “Oi, Kira, say somethin’. Are ya’ embarrassed?”

He crouched near the sofa, getting a look at the blonde’s face. Tears were running from his eyes, and Ikkaku recoiled slightly when he found that he was smiling. “Yeah,” he croaked, just staring forward without blinking. “I’m so disgusting I think I could die.”

“. . .” Ikkaku stood there helplessly, hands outstretched slightly. Should… should he move him? Did Ikkaku need to let him cry on his shoulder? Did he need to hold him and pet him?

“. . . Don’t… Don’t talk like that,” he coaxed uncertainly, and fuck, he didn’t even believe his own voice. “That shit ain’t true. You’re gonna’ get through this.”

“… H-” Kira tried to say something, but his throat closed off and visibly convulsed. His skin flushed and a thin sheen of sweat broke out upon it.

He lurched to a sitting position and scrabbled at his middle, and Ikkaku unfroze. Lunging forward, he nabbed Kira and carted him down the hall. Izuru stumbled from his arms into the washroom and fell to his knees in front of the toilet. Ikkaku stood in the hallway, both hands pressed to his temples. He walked back out into the front-room, pacing.

' _Fucking shit, holy fucking- ... what the fuck-'_

He couldn’t believe this. He couldn’t accept it. Ikkaku wiped his tongue on his sleeve a few times and tried to calm down. Kira… oh, Kira. Things were much worse than he’d thought. Fuck, this wasn’t right! What had Kira ever done to deserve such misfortune and pain?

Ikkaku clenched his fists, baring his teeth and glaring at the wall. Peachie, little blonde boy, Hisagi kissing Kira, the silver rings . . . The silver rings drew him back in, capturing his focus for a moment… a moment more, and then it clicked.

It _clicked_ and the connection was less like a light switch and more like the charge of a blasting machine setting off dynamite.

Deeply disturbed, Ikkaku went back to check on Kira. Relieved to hear that the retching had at least ceased for now, he rushed back to the washroom, only to find the door ajar and the room empty.  
  
Still feeling sick and on edge, Ikkaku did a quick look around and discovered that Kira had crawled into the adjoining bathroom and was lying sprawled there on the tiles, face to the floor. Ikkaku knelt near him and hefted him to a sitting position. Izuru was cold and clammy, his complexion grey. He looked fucking horrible.

“Kira,” he called, and he didn’t like how panicked his own voice was. “Kira, answer me. Oi,” he demanded, swatting his cheek once, very gently. “Oi, d'you hear me? Kira.”

Kira let out a sick-sounding moan, body convulsing once, and Ikkaku jumped to his feet. He hefted Kira up by the armpits, strapping one arm around his torso, and held him over the sink as he choked and coughed. Holy hell, how much had he drunk before Ikkaku had come in? Ikkaku had done his fair share of drinking a while back, but Kira was so damn skinny that he shouldn't have been able to put this much away. Don't tell him he'd tried to kill himself.

When Kira was finally done, having heaved several times only for nothing more to come out, Ikkaku laid him on the floor and raided the bathroom cabinet. He stepped carefully around Kira as he turned on the sink faucet to wash the vomit down the drain. Then he wet a handtowel with cold water and wrung it out over the basin, finally squatting next to Izuru’s head.

He didn’t know why he’d been frozen up before, but after such a… a _violent_ response, his reflexes had kicked in and taking care of Kira wasn't as hard. It had to be those damned tears. Ikkaku couldn’t handle crying, but he was still big brother, and little brother was really really sick. He couldn’t just sit by. No, he knew what to do.  
  
Ikkaku peeled Izuru’s bangs off his sweaty forehead, combing through them with his fingers and making them lie off to the side, and then dabbed at his brow with the washcloth, wiping and cooling his face. He laid Izuru’s limbs out straight and made sure he was flat on his back, just letting the towel sit on his pink forehead. Shit, he was so cold; Ikkaku had to get him some fluids and some blankets.

Kira’s eyes slid over to him as he rummaged around for supplies; his breaths were short and weak. He looked so damn sick. Ikkaku recalled the worst of his hangovers, the worst time he’d gotten sick on booze, and he didn’t envy Kira at all.

“Here, sit up. C’mon,” Ikkaku said, sliding an arm behind Kira’s shoulders and hefting him up. Kira’s head rolled back limply until Ikkaku nudged at it with his shoulder, urging him to sit up properly. Kira just panted raspily, so Ikkaku wormed his arm around further to support his head, propping him up. He then made Izuru sip some water and tried to warm one shaky cold hand.

“This is ridiculous, Kira. Instead a’ drinkin’ like this you could just be talkin’a’ therapist. Or Hisagi, better yet.” Kira shook his head with little coordination.

“S’too late,” he mumbled, his voice a slurred moan. That ignited Ikkaku with indignant fury. No, he wouldn’t let it be too late! Kira would beat this thing if it was the last thing he did! So there!

“It’s never too late! That’s why yer’ a fuckin’ fighter! That’s how you survived all that messed up shit that happened! This won’t beat you! Yer’ a fighter, an’ I fuckin’ believe in you!” Ikkaku shouted, shaking him as if he could knock the lame vulnerable fragile part of him right out, although even he could hear that there was a desperate note in his voice. What followed was horrible silence. Where once Izuru would’ve shaken his head and laughed modestly, obviously pleased at Ikkaku’s encouragement and his fervid belief in his strength, now Izuru didn’t even respond, and that turned Ikkaku’s insides icy cold with dread.

“Kira,” he prompted. “You can beat this. Yer’ a lil’ warrior. Look at you takin’ this like a champ. This won’t beat you,” he trailed off. “You ain’t gonna’ break. You ain’t gonna’ be beat.”

Kira's continued silence told him he was already completely beaten, but Ikkaku wouldn't accept that. He grabbed Kira’s face in one hand, squeezed it, and turned it towards him as he hissed, “C’mon, show some spunk.” He smacked him. “ _C’mon_.”

Izuru’s dazed eyes drifted over his face for a minute and his clammy shaking hands slid up against Ikkaku’s cheeks.

Ikkaku grabbed one to take it away, thinking it was just some drunken nonsense, but something in Kira’s expression made him stall and simply hold it there instead for a moment. Izuru breathed shallowly for a few seconds, and the distance between them somehow shrank, although he didn’t know which one of them had gotten closer. Izuru seemed to be falling forward slightly – he propped him up again, holding him, and then their foreheads were touching. Izuru’s breath came from between his lips, ghosting over his. Ikkaku held his breath tightly against the smell of vomit and alcohol.

“You make me sound so brave. You always were so nice to me, Madarame-san. So nice,” Izuru whispered, his hands weakly holding onto his face again, and suddenly the proximity was uncomfortable and put Ikkaku on edge, his gut warning him that the space was about to be breached completely. Shit, yeah, Kira was trying to get at him again and kiss him.

Ikkaku dropped him to the floor like he’d been burned, and scrambled back with Izuru kept reaching for him. He had never seen him this fucking low and he didn’t know what to do for him at all. The distress welling up within him was too strong for him to handle – had Izuru been like this for all this time? Had it gotten this bad recently or had it been like this before? Why hadn’t Ikkaku known? How had he not seen this? How had he allowed this to get so bad - so bad that Izuru would try to convince him to have sex with him?

“Kira, stop,” Ikkaku croaked, pushing Izuru’s hands away from his belt. Fuck, he couldn’t stomach this.

“Please,” Kira whispered, “please, don’t go.”

He turned his head, unable to bear looking at Izuru’s face as he took his clammy hands away, his own clamped around Izuru’s wrists. He stood up and left Izuru on the floor there. Ikkaku walked out, gritting his teeth and trying not to pay attention to the pitiful weeping. He came back with a glass of water and some crackers, which he set on the ground near Kira’s face. He covered him with a blanket and sat with him for a minute.

Izuru went quiet and didn’t move for a long while, his tears drying on his blank face, eyes open and fixated on a bare patch of wall.

Ikkaku hummed a little bit, patting Izuru’s side, letting his motionless legs rest in his lap. “See, gonna’ be just fine.” He helped sit Izuru up and fed him a sip of water. “Doin’ fine. Gonna’ get your shit together for when Hisagi comes back ta’ you. Look at you, huh? You’re doin’ alright,” he assured, patting him mindlessly, eyes crawling over Izuru’s prone form with concern.

“Ikkaku-san,” Izuru rasped, plastered against him. He wasn’t panting anymore and sounded less weak, his delirium and panic giving him strength.

“Hm?”

“Please… please stay with me,” he begged hoarsely, hands scrabbling at Ikkaku’s body. “Please, I just- Ikkaku-san, you don’t know how much I need this,” he choked out. Ikkaku’s gut clenched up and he grimaced to try to stave off the expression of utter horror and revulsion that was surfacing. He knew he shouldn't leave him alone, but he couldn’t stay if Kira kept pushing this on him.

“I’m tryin’a’ help you, Kira, but-”

“I just need to feel something.”

“Oi, knock it off,” Ikkaku said in a calm voice, grabbing Kira’s wrist from where it tried its hardest to draw a response.

“Please, you can hurt me, you can do whatever you want.”

He just couldn't stay after that. "Turn on your side. I have to make a phone call."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kay, I have to tell you guys something. 
> 
> I didn't actually finish this piece before starting to post it, which was a mistake. The longer I've worked on it, the less I like it, and finally, I stopped altogether. I haven't worked on new chapters for this piece in about ten months, and it looks like this one might be on an almost certainly permanent hiatus. 
> 
> The good news is that I have around 230K finished so far, so there's a lot of story left for me to share before we get to the point where I got writer's block. I'm sorry to do this to you guys, but I thought I'd let you know in advance that I'm posting updates really slowly to make them last while I try to get my motivation back. 
> 
> Thank you for your patience and your readership, and again, I apologize.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning, cheesy cameos

Izuru fell unconscious almost immediately after he left the room, which was, to Ikkaku's regret, somewhat of a relief. Ikkaku stood in the hall and dialed Renji’s number, glancing back to the unresponsive blonde on the floor. Man, this had  _not_ gone to plan. 

“Ikkaku? How did it go?” Renji asked eagerly, not even waiting for a reply once he finally picked up. Shit, this kid…

“Oi, Abarai,” he said quietly, not wanting to disturb Izuru if he was simply asleep, although his gut told him otherwise. “Hisagi doesn’t wanna’ talk to me right now, so _you_ gotta’ call him.” He glanced down at the blonde again, his poor poor friend, feeling a bitter twinge of sorrow for him. “I’m at Kira’s place… Look, Hisagi’s gotta’ get over here.”

“What? What happened?”

“Just get him ta' come over here.” He didn’t know what else to do. He felt sure that Hisagi could get Kira out of this frame of mind. Kira _loved_ him. He’d pull himself together for Hisagi if he’d just come to see him.

“Hey, _hey!_ What happened?!”

“Look, just get him tha’ fuck over here, okay? Don’t let him say no. Tell him he has to come over and take care a' Kira and fix things.” Ikkaku grimaced as Izuru twitched once. “Kira needs him here.”

“Ikkaku, c’mon, what happened?” Renji asked again, seeming more alarmed. He groaned as he quickly caught on to what had happened. “Shit, is he drunk? I’ve gone to see him before too, and I tried to help, but he… well… I couldn’t go back after that,” he said uncomfortably, giving Ikkaku the feeling that Kira had also sought ‘comfort’ from Renji. “He’s in a… vulnerable state.” 

“Yeah, I figured that out when he tried to jump my bones.” Renji made a noise, but didn’t comment on that. _“Drunk_ is a speck in the distance. He’s completely smashed. It’s fuckin’ sick to look at.” He shook his head slightly, walking out into the hallway and then into the front room. That picture on the wall glared at him, sending chills down his spine.

He fled the apartment then, looming outside and leaning against one wall, massaging his brow and pinching the bridge of his nose. Let’s see, he’d rolled Kira on his side, he’d given him water and he’d put blankets on him to keep him warm. . . He’d offered all the emotional support that he’d been able, and he’d done what he could for Kira’s body… other than, you know.

Fuck, he couldn’t go back in there. If Kira woke up and tried to pants him again, he didn’t think he could live with himself. Tonight would be enough already to cause Kira eternal shame when he recovered. When, not if.

There was just nothing more Ikkaku felt he could do on his own. Hisagi had to get here and take responsibility for this.

“Look, just call Hisagi and get him to come here. Kira really needs him. I can’t call Hisagi ‘cause he doesn’t wanna’ talk to me an’ shit, so _you’ve_ gotta’ do it.”

“I can’t get into contact with him either,” Renji said in dismay, which pretty much blew Ikkaku’s last fuse.

“What? I thought you talked to him the other day!” Ikkaku snapped in exasperation.

“Hey look, he doesn’t wanna’ see me or talk ta’ me either, okay? I only saw him because he hangs with the same group of people that Ichigo’s friend does, so he was at the club when we were there. Doesn’t mean that my calls are getting put through,” Renji replied defensively. “His phone line’s disconnected.”

Ikkaku’s mouth just gaped helplessly for a moment, because he’d been banking on the fact that even if Hisagi was pissed with _him,_ he wouldn’t have shut out Renji . . .

It was over though. Hisagi had really split. He’d left Kira to fend for himself. Hisagi had chosen to swim and let Kira sink, and no amount of Ikkaku’s disapproval, threats, or abuse to Hisagi could fix the fact that Kira was down with the fishes, his last air bubbles leaking out while Hisagi was off god knows where. Ikkaku clearly couldn’t make Hisagi do anything, even if he came to blows and broke his face – Hisagi had made up his mind, and there was nothing he could do about it, because he’d split. He’d fucking split, and now Kira was in need, and Ikkaku couldn’t help him. His fists couldn’t fix this one.

He felt completely fucking _helpless._ All of a sudden his life just seemed so bleak. They’d all used to be such great friends. _Ikkaku_ had always been the one out of the group to be scolded for horrible risky behavior, for his bad attitude, for his less-than-decent decisions, but he was still the oldest, and was therefore the big brother. He’d been the shit-talking, muscle-bolstering, don’t-tell-me-what-to-do big brother who drank and cursed and fought for fun. He’d given his little brothers a good healthy amount a’ shit, but out of _love,_ to make ‘em strong and thick-skinned. It wasn’t so much that he’d actively looked out for them, but the others had just come to him with their problems and he’d been there. He'd thought he did a well enough job, but... 

\- But it looked like if they didn’t confront him directly and say ‘help,’ he just kind of stood by and left them to their own devices for as long as they stayed silent. No matter how bad things got or how much trouble they were in, it looked like he just stood by and stood by and let them destroy themselves. What a shitty _failure_ of a big brother he was. He’d always been a believer that you had to let a man fight his own battles, but... now he wasn’t so sure.

Here he was, alone and approaching thirty, having let his… no, not his only friends – his only _family_ fall apart. The gang, his _boys_  were scattered to the four winds, and here he was, unable to do a goddamn thing to help them. It was too late; it was far too late for him to step in and work that big brother magic where he’d just make everything okay, where he’d interfere and fix everything and make them quit hurting each other. He just couldn’t do it at this point. There were no wise words, no offerings of beer, no _punches_ to whoever had made them cry that could heal all that hurt. The mess was too big and all his brothers were off cryin’ in different corners as he helplessly watched.

Hisagi had fallen apart over what had happened with Kira, but had kept crawling back, because shit, the poor fool was in love. He hadn’t wanted to give up because of all the time they’d invested and all the trust and love and care they’d shared. He hadn’t wanted to accept that Kira was a mangled and unfixable wreck, but he’d stayed and valiantly waged a losing battle. Over time it had worn on him and he’d grown bitter and pessimistic, less invested in that black-and-white justice he’d been so die-hard for not too long before. He’d lost enough sleep that he’d gotten himself hooked on all manner of stimulants to keep himself going, not to mention that he hardly ate.

Perhaps the most startling change was Hisagi’s outlook on love and relationships. Hisagi had long been happy with Kira and _only_ Kira. They’d had what Ikkaku had hoped to find with a partner: absolute peace and harmony, complete contentment. It wasn’t like that now, though. Hisagi had started saying things like ‘love is pain,’ and he no longer believed in that idealistic true love or that with love, people can overcome anything.

Whereas before he’d been sweet, thoughtful, and attentive towards Izuru, now he didn’t mention Izuru’s name unless it was damn near under pain of death. Where he’d once urged Ikkaku to find someone right along with Renji, now he was gloomy and lonely, sour, as high-strung as a cornered animal. Where he’d once been singing romance’s praises right along with Renji, on the most recent White Day he’d smoked through an entire pack of menthols. Hisagi had been just as much of a cheesy dork as Renji had been, although with the seriousness and maturity that came with a relationship that had stood the test of time. His heart had been broken though, broken horribly, and try as he might, he couldn’t fill in the cracks, and he’d started to lose pieces of who he’d once been.

Hisagi had been a good man; he’d valued things like integrity, honesty, faithfulness, fairness, and respect. That was who Ikkaku knew him to be. That was who he thought of when Hisagi was mentioned: a good, _good_ person.

Fast forward a year and a half or so, and now he was having revenge sex, and was drinking and cursing out his kouhai. He’d given up writing, he’d given up music; he wasn’t interested in journalism anymore. All of the passions he’d had were dead, and along with it, so was that part of him, the nice helpful stand-up-guy part of him. It was like he’d decided that now that the light of his life was gone, there was no light left within him either, and now he was constantly out searching for it. Hisagi tried and tried to find someone to fill the void, someone to move on for, but somehow it just never worked out, almost as if he were a widower who still wore his ring and gave an unknowing signal to everyone that his heart belonged to another, that they could never be an adequate replacement.

The old Hisagi was gone, and Ikkaku had been left with a troubled bitter young man that he couldn’t relate to, that he couldn’t pal around with, that he couldn’t understand. That nice guy that Ikkaku could tease and joke around with and drink with had disappeared and Ikkaku didn’t know how to pull him back out of the black hole of bitterness that Hisagi had become.

Kira too. Izuru had been hands-down, the _nicest_ person Ikkaku had ever met. The kid had been polite and helpful, modest, studious, smart, _funny,_ but his downfall had always been that he was too trusting, too loyal, too gullible – he believed in the good nature of others more than one should in such a harsh world. Some bad things had happened to him, _awful_ things. Of course, he’d relied on Hisagi to help him through it, and Hisagi _had_ helped him. They’d _gotten_ through that shit and they’d moved on, but when it began to creep in and resurface, so slowly and unobtrusively that it wasn’t clear to anyone that Kira was still fighting demons, Hisagi hadn’t been able to cope. Kira had developed disgusting masochistic feelings for the perpetrator. After so much coercion, so much manipulation, he’d cracked mentally, and Hisagi hadn’t been able to get past it even if he understood the circumstances and the _how._ He just couldn’t accept the _why,_ and he’d had to split.

But again, Hisagi loved Kira, and he hadn’t been able to stay away forever. He’d come back for a time, thinking he’d regained his strength, but would then come to the realization again that there was nothing to be done, that he couldn’t handle it, that he couldn’t cope. He just couldn’t bear the harsh reality of it, he couldn’t accept it, and had hoped and hoped, going back time and again, only to retreat once more, defeated.

Kira’s side of things was much more tragic in Ikkaku’s opinion. Kira was left to pick up the pieces every time he thought that Hisagi had come back for real, only to be left over and over when Hisagi found that he couldn’t forgive or overlook what had happened, even after Izuru transferred jobs and everything and gotten away from that silver guy. It had been an accident, a stupid mistake, Izuru’s own oversight; it had just gotten out of _hand –_ Hisagi hadn’t been able to get over it though. Things just weren’t the same between them whenever they made up, and they’d split for what seemed like the last time. Hisagi had turned to caffeine and cigarettes. Kira had turned to alcohol. He’d grown his hair out and had become paranoid and clingy. Hisagi snapped easily and prowled around for women, half-hoping that he failed, half not.

What had once been a couple who’d supported each other and been so tender to one another that it had made Ikkaku sick was now an estranged pair of people who longed for each other but just couldn’t get past what had happened between them. Life sucked and they were both trying to move on and ignore the old wounds rather than sewing them closed for good.

Renji was getting worn down too. Of course, he was still his same old try-hard self, but it was obvious he was becoming disillusioned due to the fact that everyone he’d held as a role model or a confidant was showing who they really were inside – people that when push came to shove, made ignoble decisions. Almost every longtime friend Renji had had now was falling apart. Renji had always been the kid of the group, and now that everything was crashing in around him, he didn’t know how to be the foundation that held everyone together. The stress was beginning to show clearly on his face and in the way that he always mentioned the best parts of his life, in hope that he could bring some levity to the conversation rather than focusing on everyone’s problems. He played the fool, but he was desperately sad that he was the only one who was happy. He had no one to tell him how to be a leader; he was the last man standing who cared, and it had to be a lonely, _lonely_ thing.

Hisagi was gone, Kira was drunk, and Renji was a lost puppy, and where did that leave big brother? Sitting in the last corner, having a life-crisis as he watched the ones he loved suffer, knowing that if he had acted sooner, he could have prevented it? That seemed about right.

Here Ikkaku was, twenty-eight, a screw-up, no family to go home too, and his only friends were tearing themselves apart over something that hadn’t been anyone’s fault – at least no one out of the four of them. He and Hisagi had turned on each other like wild dogs and had destroyed their family unit, Renji hadn’t known how to stop them, and Kira had been off alone somewhere. It had all been figurative of course, up until he and Hisagi literally _had_ torn into each other. Now their family was shattered and messed up, all of them hurting incredibly badly and aching for things to go back to the way they’d been.

They’d all been fucked over, hadn’t they, and though Ikkaku felt somewhat like a lone survivor, even he hadn’t been left unscathed. The way he saw it, two of his friends were dead and he’d been silently mourning them for months.

There was also the matter of him being screwed out of trying to connect with someone he’d really liked, and now being left to try to deal with the consequences of Hisagi’s bitter lash out.

Somewhere inside Ikkaku, he knew that Hisagi had done that out of pique, that it probably was rooted in his feelings of abandonment and aloneness after leaving Kira – because being cruel and immature like that just _wasn’t_ who Hisagi was – but that didn’t make it right.

There it was; Ikkaku’s buddy had screwed him over and ran for it, Ikkaku couldn’t get a date, Renji was losing his hope and optimism, and shit, Izuru had just made a move on him! Not only that, but he’d puked his guts out and was teetering on a slippery slope of drinking to improve his mood and straight-out alcohol poisoning.

Ikkaku had purposefully shut his eyes to this, and now that he’d opened them, it was far worse than he could’ve comprehended. Honestly, he'd done it to himself - he hadn’t wanted to be bothered. He’d ignored it and ignored it and _ignored it_ and fucking _ignored it,_ and he’d let things get to the point where he no longer had any solution now that he finally wanted to help. In his absence, the problem had become too big for him to solve. He’d ignored his feelings, he’d turned away and shut out his emotions, his compassionate side that would've helped his friends and done the right thing.

It was like… Ikkaku had lost all control over his life… and it all had been exacerbated the moment he’d hesitated to just walk into that fucking hair-shop and talk to Yumichika.

Part of Hisagi and Kira were gone and likely couldn’t be recovered, and even Renji was slowly eroding. . . but what about him?

When had his heart stopped being honest?

“Ikkaku?” Renji prompted worriedly. “I said he disconnected his phone-line. I don’t know where he is or how to find him. He might’a’ left town. Listen, listen’a’ me, I think he could’a’ left town.”

Ikkaku stared ahead of him for a few more moments. Everything was just slipping… right through his fingers. What the fuck was he supposed to do anymore?

“Ikkaku?”

“Fuck this.”

He hung up and ran a hand over his head once, exhaling slowly. This was fucking ridiculous. It was time for someone to just _admit_ that they were in over their head, and since Ikkaku was the last man standing, the lone survivor, he’d be that person. This wasn't about his fucking pride anymore, it was about whether he cared about his friends _at all_.  

It was to the point where there was no way he could shut his eyes and sing ‘la-la’ and ignore it. Well, what was he gonna’ do about it, huh? It was time to make a choice.

. . .  _'I'm tired a' bein' a cold-hearted bastard.'_

Ikkaku swallowed and opened his flip-phone again, just staring at the low quality screen resolution for a moment and then punching in the numbers very deliberately.

_‘1-1-9’_

He stared at it for a minute more and then pressed the green ‘call’ button, raising the phone to his ear. He wouldn't have resorted to it, because he hated hospitals and shit like this, but this wasn’t fuckin’ _about_ him, okay? Izuru needed professional help and Ikkaku would make damn well sure he fucking _got_ it. If Hisagi had headed for the hills, well Ikkaku would have to pick up the slack for now. Ikkaku _cared_ about Izuru, fuck, he loved the guy, and he couldn’t stand to see him this way . . . Even if it sucked, he needed to be where he could be watched and where people could take care of him, where people who knew what to do could fix him up for _real._

Ikkaku’s heart pounded in his ears, but his expression was calm and determined. His hands trembled more violently, so he squeezed his phone, hugging it against his face. He’d never called the emergency line before in his life, and trust him, he definitely should have a few times before.

The ringing in his ear just sounded like there was no going back, like there was no going back to ignorance, and it was scary.

As soon as the dial tone stopped, Ikkaku said, “It’s an emergency. I need an ambulance.”

“What’s happened?” replied the first-responder.

“Ah, there’s someone who drank too much and is unresponsive here. I’m afraid they’ll have alcohol poisoning if someone isn’t sent to collect them soon,” he explained, and there was that phrase, ‘I’m afraid.’ Admitting it was terrifying and made it so much more _real._ He didn’t dare even let it cross his mind that Kira could die.

“Where are you currently located?”

“Koto, Tokyo-ku. Hold on, lemme’ get the address.” Ikkaku repeated the exact place back a few times and answered some more simple questions.

“An ambulance is on its way.”

“I can't stay, I have somewhere to be,” Ikkaku told them, “but I’ll leave the door to the housing unit unlocked. Thank you. Bye.” He hung up, checked Kira one last time, and then headed down the stairs onto the street.

There he stood and waited until the ambulance pulled up. He pointed them inside, and then he took off. Kira would be taken care of now; Ikkaku was secure in that knowledge, although it still weighed on his mind. Maybe he shouldn't have left just yet.

There was just something else he had to see to.

If there was one thing Ikkaku didn’t do, it was take things lying down, and maybe he’d needed an extreme wake-up call like that to realize that that’s what he’d been doing – yielding to circumstances and showing his belly, passively sitting by and letting life fuck his shit up. Well not today.

The sun had almost set completely, and Ikkaku broke into a heavy run. The neon signs characteristic of the city were beginning to turn on, beckoning passersby to enter casinos and bars, theatres, and other shops, but Ikkaku knew what he was looking for.

He almost got fucking _run_ over when he jumped in front of a taxi that was just about to leave. After about twenty anxious minutes, he hopped back out and ran the rest of the way, pushing through groups of people to make it to the pedestrian lights and dashing across streets.

When he finally made it, he skidded to a stop on a patch of wet sidewalk, bending over and heaving, resting his forearms on his legs for a moment. The shop was still open. Whew.

A cop was leaning up against the wall next to the door, causing Ikkaku to jump back in surprise for a moment. Shit. He’d jaywalked right in front of the guy. Ikkaku was certainly not eager to have any more run-ins with the law. “Ah! ‘Scuse me, Sir… ah…” On further inspection, the cop was snoozing away, arms crossed, head nodding every so often. From where his cap was tipping forward, Ikkaku could see short green hair.

‘ . . . _The fuck?’_

He paid the man no more attention and looked through the shop window; it was particularly easy to see in, now that it was lit and the outside was becoming dark. Yumichika was still in there, and it was obvious that it was almost closing time. Ikkaku opened the door and marched right up to him, ready to tell him that he needed to talk to him.

Fuck hesitating. Ikkaku had had it up to _here_ with hesitating, and he was doing it _now._ So _there._

Problem was, Yumichika was in a conversation with someone who was clearly the manager: a blonde with this weirdo eyebrow.

Yumichika’s eyes slid to him for a moment, and wonderful recognition washed over his face. Yumichika burst into a smile, and Ikkaku melted in a way that hurt in no small amount. God, he still liked him so much, and god damnit, Hisagi had _fucked him._ Hisagi was seeing him! Ikkaku clenched his fists and grit his teeth, because fuck, even if that were true, he still liked Yumichika so fucking much.

He tried to offer a smile, but it probably looked like he’d had a tooth pulled and the Novocain hadn’t quite worn off, because he was still distraught from seeing Kira strewn on the floor. No, no, Kira was safe now. Kira was being taken care of now. He was with people who would heal him and protect him in a way that he just simply _couldn’t._ Kira would be alright.

At least Yumichika seemed genuinely pleased to see him.

Ikkaku smiled at him a little more, it feeling more like an actual smile rather than a nerve pinching in his cheek. Yumichika’s eyes slid back off to his manager, and it finally registered then to Ikkaku that Yumichika was pretty much being verbally _accosted._

Yumichika replied to each of his boss’s rapid-fire questions just as quickly as they were thrown out there, and he was keeping up just fine, just as smooth and calm as ever. It was clear Mr. Boss Man had a short-temper and was steamed about something, but Yumichika was staying cool. This guy, though – if Ikkaku had thought that _Yumichika’s_ fashion sense was high-maintenance, well fuck, it must’ve rubbed off because of his workplace, because this guy was in a slim-cut suit, with the jacket thrown over his shoulder. His dress shirt was orange, and he had a black tie. He was slim like Yumichika, but more angular, and he was probably an inch or two taller.

“They’re coming by in the morning, you understand?”

“Yes,” Yumichika replied readily, as he had been doing to each question. He seemed unintimidated by the guy’s overbearing presence, but was still quite subdued.

“And if I’m not here when they do, you stall them _until_ I get here, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Stall them, even if you have to kick them in the heads, yeah?”

“Yes, Kachou.”

“They don’t check a single piece of paperwork until I get here, even if it means you have to kick them in the heads to get them to wait, you understand? I’m _perfectly clear?”_ he pressed.

“Yes, absolutely.”

“Good,” the blonde said, seeming satisfied finally, easing back. He’d really been laying into Yumichika for a minute there. Ikkaku might’ve intervened if it weren’t clear that Yumichika was handling it well. Even so, Yumichika seemed to take a relieved breath at the reprieve. The manager leaned back and fucking _lit up_ inside the store, folding one arm under the opposite elbow and taking a drag. “You’re not completely useless, I’ll give you that. It’s more’n I can say for the last guy that worked here.”

“Thank you,” Yumichika replied modestly.

The blonde’s single eye slid over to Ikkaku and then back to Yumichika. “We’re closin’ soon, shithead. Can’t you read?”

Ikkaku’s fists tightened up as he realized he was talking to _him._ What the fuck was with these people and being rude to their customers? This guy topped them all! “I can read just fine, Cyclops.”

“Cyclops! I’ll-” The blonde bit hard on his cigarette and took a breath. “You’re a customer,” he said, seeming to be talking solely to himself as he set his foot back on the ground. Ikkaku stared. Had he literally been about to kick him? What the fuck!

“Ayasegawa, you deal with this trash. I’m heading out in five.” Ikkaku stuck his chin out challengingly, sneering, and the blonde just glared back at him, snarling just as harshly. He then headed back for the door that presumably led to the employee lounge or the office or whatever.

“Yes-” _Bam!_

The door slammed, cutting Yumichika’s reply off. Yumichika sighed and rolled his eyes with a smile, then turned to Ikkaku. “You’re back again!... and you’re _alone,”_ he noted with a small frown, eyes flicking over the smattering of bruises and cuts on his face. “Rangiku’s not here, but-”

“Rangiku-chwaaan!~”

“Never mind,” Yumichika said with a small laugh. “I thought she’d left already, but I guess not. I’ll call her out for you.”

. . . Why the fuck would Yumichika think he was here to see Rangiku? It seemed he’d have to set him straight.

Ikkaku swallowed somewhat nervously, his initial burst of confidence having flagged. “Oh, no. I needed to talk to _you,_ actually,” he said with a bravery he didn’t feel, trying not to break eye-contact. Yumichika shifted his weight to the other side and _hot damn,_ he was beautiful. Ikkaku scratched his chest nervously as Yumichika cocked his head to the side.

“Yes?” he prompted, lowering his voice and giving the request an air of secrecy. “What is it?” he asked softly with a little curious smile.

“You wanna’… uh… go out sometime?” Ikkaku said with an _incredible_ feeling of awkwardness. Yumichika listened on with an unreadable expression, waiting for him to finish talking. He rambled for a minute, taking a while to get everything out. “Not in a group, I mean just you and me.” Ikkaku scratched the back of his neck and tried to smile. “I just… I like you, so I thought that… y’know.”

Yumichika’s eyes slid off to the side in confusion, and he shifted his weight again, crossing his arms and putting a fist to his mouth. He stood there with his brow crinkled for a moment, before his eyes flicked to Ikkaku suspiciously. “Wait,” he finally said incredulously, _“What?”_

Ikkaku’s insides shriveled up and died, rotting and tingling horribly like insects were already coming to feast upon them, and in the void that was left behind, a thousand fluttering bats decided to take up roost and flap their wings. Screw _butterflies._

Taking Yumichika’s tone to be hostile and the introduction of a rejection, it took everything Ikkaku had not to turn around and leave in anger. It _really seemed_ like Yumichika was setting him up to reject him really harshly, and if that happened, well Ikkaku wasn't a gracious loser. He’d gone through too much for Yumichika to treat him like shit now. Even so, he hoped this wasn’t the case. He tried again earnestly.

“Please, let me take you out,” he rephrased, the uncertainty in his voice plain to anyone with functioning ears. Right then, he was just proud of the fact that he’d fucking tried, that he’d gotten the words out. No one could call him a fucking ‘herbivore’ now. Let it be known that Madarame Ikkaku was no coward and he does _not_ eat grass. So there.

“What?” Yumichika asked again, his nose wrinkling in something that could be disgust, but looked more like blatant confusion, as if Yumichika thought he _had_ to be hearing Ikkaku wrong. Ikkaku didn't see how he could be more clear. What, was he trying to say that he was so far out of Ikkaku’s league that he’d been nuts to even _ask?_

No, no, it didn’t seem he was making fun of him. Yumichika seemed genuinely _floored._

“What are you doing?” Yumichika wondered, sounding so taken aback and at a loss that it seemed like he didn’t know what else to say.

Ikkaku swallowed hard, beginning to get frustrated. “What does it sound like I’m doing? I’m asking you to come on a date.”

 _“Me?”_ Yumichika asked incredulously, raising his eyebrows, leaning forward, and gesturing to his chest with both hands. Ah yeah, okay, Yumichika was definitely making fun of him, and Ikkaku’s pride could only endure so much. He wished Yumichika would just say no already instead of dragging it out like this.

“Yes,” Ikkaku snapped. “I’m talkin’a’ _you,_ aren’t I? Who else would I mean?” He was starting to get pretty stressed out. God damn, if Yumichika was trying to ridicule him and make a fool of him, well he should just fuckin’ do it already instead of prancing around and making Ikkaku feel even more stupid. “You don’t have to be so rude about it, all you have to say is yes or no!”

“Wh-” Yumichika stuttered breathlessly, looking gobsmacked. He took a step back. Ikkaku scowled, grumbling. God, what a fucking attitude. “I- I thought the reason you kept coming here was to see _Rangiku!”_ Yumichika said in surprise, staring at Ikkaku wide-eyed. Ikkaku’s stomach dropped.

Oh. It wasn’t because… Yumichika was just… Oh _._

“Every time you come in here, you spend the whole time talking with her, so I just thought-” Yumichika tried to explain, gesticulating wildly, seeming flustered. He'd never seen him like that before. Ikkaku recoiled in shock.

“Wha- _No!”_ he shouted. What was going on here! Hisagi had thought the same fucking thing! Why were people getting that impression?! “No, I came ta’ see _you,”_ he said imploringly, feeling like he really had a chance to get somewhere now. “It was just, I never had a good reason to come in here, as you can tell,” he confessed, gesturing to his head, “so I had ta’ keep thinkin’ of excuses and bringin’ people with me.”

He stood back for a minute, crossing his arms with a ‘tch. “An’ my friend… Well, that dick-head ended up swipin’ all yer attention so I couldn’t get the chance to talk to you…”

“Wow,” Yumichika said, staring at him for a moment, shoulders slumped. Ikkaku had never seen him so… un-smooth. It seemed he’d made a mistake in his fantasies. No matter how beautiful and graceful and collected he seemed, he was still just a person, wasn’t he. Maybe he’d built Yumichika up into this perfect being in his mind without realizing he’d done so.

“You’re kind of bad at this, aren’t you,” he said blandly, looking at Ikkaku like he’d never seen anything like him before and was both fascinated and kind of appalled by him.

Ikkaku scowled. “Look, I’m really tryin’ here! Don’t be an asshole!” He immediately gaped, appalled by his own words. “Shit, I didn’t- Shit!” Yumichika stared at him with an eyebrow raised, and Ikkaku started to panic, everything spilling out. With Yumichika lookin’ at him like that, he just couldn’t tell a lie and apparently couldn’t _omit_ anything either.

However, as embarrassing and scary as this was, he was starting to think that he shouldn’t have been keeping his mouth shut in the first place. He should’ve just said all this in the beginning, because he realized now that bottling it up hadn’t felt good at all – maybe spilling it didn’t feel good, but there was a sense of... _relief,_ or some kind of release, as if he’d thrown off a burden.

It was hard to explain the moment of clarity he’d had in which all the misfortunes of the past two years had come back to bite him, how he’d had this horrible moment of despair in which he’d been helpless to fix the mess he was in. It was hard to put into words that this was how he was taking back his strength, that this was his way of being a man, of showing some backbone, that this was so important to him no matter Yumichika’s answer. It was hard to fully encapsulate why he was doing what he was doing in the feeble human language, but he fucking tried.

“Look, I pretty much had ta’ face that my life’s fallen to shit today and it’s all to do with the fact that I keep bein’ a fuckin’ coward, I keep hesitating and ignorin’ shit and then it gets away from me and gets bigger’n scarier until I can’t handle it,” Ikkaku summed up, “so when I heard that you an’ Hisagi were goin’ out and that you guys fucked, I panicked, okay?” Yumichika just stared, blinking, as Ikkaku kept going without even pausing. “I’d been plannin’ ta’ ask you out that day we both came in here, but I dunno’, he felt like he had ta’ get revenge on me or somethin’ and he distracted you! I thought I’d missed my chance completely an’ I gave up, but after today, I decided ‘what the hell, I don’t care if you two are seeing each other’ and just came in here right now!”

He was pretty out of breath from that, feeling like he’d climbed a mountain and was just about to stab that flag in, the gorgeous violet vista just hanging there, waiting for him, grey clouds slathered across a sky that stretched on for miles and miles.

“I dunno' why I'm telling you this - I don’t even care if it’s too late, I just had to tell you the truth. Because I really like you,” he confessed. “I meant to say so before.” He took a cleansing breath, shoulders dipping down. “Please, please come on a date with me.”

In the ensuing silence, Yumichika stared at him strangely again like he was trying to figure out just how Ikkaku worked and what he was made of; he did it for a long time, actually, only blinking once or twice, looking thoroughly taken aback, taken so far aback that someone should slide a chair under his bum before he fell flat.

Ikkaku gave a harrowed sigh, frustrated with himself as he put a hand to his eyes, tapping his foot. What kind of fucking loser must he look like? No wonder Yumichika was ogling him like that . . .

Suddenly, he heard laughter; snorty giggles that would no doubt embarrass anybody making them, but they were still so… _cute._

“Yu-you’re _really_ not guh-good at this!” Yumichika laughed, both hands clasped over his mouth as he bent over slightly.

“Hey…” Ikkaku’s scowl slipped into a frown. He looked up when he saw Rangiku come out of the back-office. She stopped right away and looked at them, quickly realizing what was going on. Yumichika continued laughing his head off, pretty much crushing Ikkaku’s spirit completely.

“Oh, your face! You’re so-! . . . Pfff-ff-ffff-ff,” Yumichika spat, completely undignified in his giggling.

Ikkaku couldn’t bring himself to be mad, because again, Yumichika’s laughter was so cute and sweet… but shit, he was… Ugh. Yumichika was _laughing at_ _him._ Crestfallen, Ikkaku put his hands in his pockets and turned slightly. He should probably just go.

Yumichika gave a long sigh of hilarity then, having calmed down. He was smiling at him, but not… not in a mean way. Ikkaku swallowed a little, eyes flicking back down to his feet.

“You’re very charming, Ikkaku-san,” Yumichika said, causing Ikkaku’s head to snap up like lightning. His heart jolted as he stared at Yumichika’s face... Yumichika… had remembered his name… and _charming?_

No seriously, _charming._ That's what Yumichika had said! ... No one had ever called him that before.

Yumichika hummed for a moment, drumming his fingers on his lips and looking Ikkaku up and down. There were those eyes again that Ikkaku had thought he’d imagined -  _Yumichika was checking him out._

He stood up a little straighter out of reflex and a sly smile spread on Yumichika’s lips. “How about this,” he finally answered, “Let me close up, and then we’ll go dancing tonight.” Ikkaku blinked, mouth open. Yumichika seemed to take his non-reaction as negative. “If you like dancing that is.”

Ikkaku just stared for a moment more and then startled into action. “Uh, yes!” he said eagerly. “Yes, that’s- Yes!” He could hardly fucking speak normally, still so stunned, just staring wide-eyed, heart beating like crazy. This was really happening. Yumichika had just- Oh my god, holy shit!

Yumichika just looked back at him with a growing smile. He began to laugh a little again, shaking his head slightly, seeming to find his enthusiasm and surprise very endearing. Rangiku was smirking in the corner and Ikkaku realized that she had been right. Yumichika was into dorks.

“Okay, so should I wait? Or what?” Ikkaku asked, now wearing a crazy triumphant grin that he couldn’t have fought down if he’d tried.

“It’ll be a while. I have to restock… besides, I don’t usually go out without preparing. I’m not exactly dressed for a date, now am I?”

“The fuck do you mean, you look great!” Ikkaku said breathlessly, still fucking steam-rolled that he got to take Yumichika – _Yumichika –_ out! His luck had made one hell of a turnaround today!

Yumichika smiled and shook his head, laughed once, and then disappeared down the hall. The manager passed by him at the same time, putting his jacket on. Ikkaku could’ve sworn he saw a heart-shaped smoke cloud come off his cigarette when the blonde laid eye on Rangiku.

Speaking of, Rangiku fucking _pounced_ on him the moment Yumichika was out of sight, squeezing him near to death with her arms. “O-oi!” Ikkaku said, cowed, patting her back a little as she jumped up and down in excitement for him.

“Oh my god, _yes!_  I thought you weren’t coming back here again! You really asked him, I told you he’d say yes! Oh my god!” she congratulated, releasing him so he could take a gasp of air. In retrospect, now that she wasn’t crushing him to death, her hug had been very nice and soft. When was the last time he’d been hugged? He... he kind of had needed that... a little.

Meanwhile, that blonde was glaring at him like he was a fucking murderer! What the fuck was his problem?

Ikkaku watched as he walked around to lock the cash-register and then flipped the open-sign around. Rangiku snagged him by the arm, tearing his attention away. “Let me fix your face, hun. You’ve gotta’ be on point!”

“My… my _face?_ ” Ikkaku asked, horrified, adrenaline still zipping through him at high speeds. “No! What the hell, I don't wear makeup!”

“Let me. Fix. Your face,” she repeated, digging her nails into his wrist. He winced, but didn’t relent. Backbone, he had backbone, and she and her pointy elbows and nails wouldn’t break the likes a’ _him!_

“No,” he growled, yanking against her grip half-heartedly. He could probably pop her arm out of the socket and then get away if he could just-

“Oi! Dickhead!” the manager snapped. “Don’t talk to a lady that way. I’ll kick your ass so fuckin’ hard my foot’ll come outta’ your mouth,” he said with a sneer.

Ikkaku was still in a pretty good mood, but all the same he put on a menacing scowl and pointed at him with the opposite hand, having to twist his body in half, since Rangiku didn’t let go of his other arm.

“Where do you get off talkin’ to your customers that way, huh, blondie?”

 _“Blondie?!”_ The guy’s face turned beet red, and he got up in his Ikkaku’s face, fists balled at his sides. He sure had a temper, and he smelt like he’d chainsmoked for _days_ _._ “I’ll _blonde_ you, right off the enda’ my foot!”

“Try me, smokestack! You fuckin’ reek!”

 _“Gahhgh!_ I oughta’-”

The door jingled as it opened a bit. The cop stuck his head in. “Oi, dartboard, let’s go. I’ve got an early shift tomorrow.”

It was quiet for a few seconds. The cop’s grassy head didn’t withdraw. He raised his eyebrows, and Ikkaku noticed he had a scar on one eye. The fuck? They both were half-blind? The blonde stared back at him challengingly.

“Any time now,” moss-cop said.

At that, the blonde actually _hissed,_ threw on his jacket, and turned in a motion that almost reminded Ikkaku of a piece of paper having been flipped over. Then the whole of his skinny body contorted as he took a breath and shouted back through the store.

 _“Ayasegawa!”_ Green-hair visibly rolled his eye, complete with a shake of the head, leaning back out of the store and letting the door shut.

“Yes?” Yumichika answered, having stuck his head out the door.

“Keep an eye on this lowlife,” the manager said, buttoning his jacket up. “Goodnight, Ran-chwan,” he said in a slimy tone with a smile and a weird wiggle of his body.

“Night, ‘Michika,” the cop called from outside, and the blonde went from slimy to steamed again almost immediately, flipping the man off through the window.

“Thank you for your hard work!” Yumichika and Rangiku both said to their boss as the guy finally left, already bickering with the cop on the sidewalk. Soon enough they were out of sight and Yumichika left again to take care of whatever he was doing.

“I’m not lettin’ you paint my face,” Ikkaku re-asserted to Rangiku, tugging at her grip. He was ready to bolt the moment she eased up, since he wasn’t about to really _yank_ his arm out of a woman’s hand, at least not one who had such long sharp nails.

“Yumichika will appreciate it,” she insisted, dragging him to a chair. Ikkaku relaxed somewhat, although he was still rather… uneasy.

“Are you sure?” he wondered, “… Fuck it, you’re screwing with me, aren’t you?”

“Just hold still,” she said, leaning in with this fucking pen thing and Ikkaku held still, only because he didn’t want whatever shit she was doing to him to get messed up and then look worse. More importantly, he didn’t want her to accidentally stab his eye. We all know what happened the _last_ time he’d bumped her arm.

She was doing something on his eyelids that felt wet and cold, and then she was putting powder on the corner of his eye with a little brush, then blowing on both sides of his face to get the extra off. “There, just keep your eyes shut for a while longer so it’ll dry.”

“Why? What the fuck did you do,” Ikkaku mumbled very softly, afraid to even let his face twitch at all. “I’m gonna’ kill you once I can move, Matsumoto. Ugh, I hate you,” he growled in frustration, reaching out blindly for her, hand meeting skin.

“Hey!” She smacked him right on the cheek, not hard, but it was a surprise.

It took all he had not to scrunch up his eyes. He knew well enough that she’d put some kinda’ paint on him and that if he blinked, the wet part would get places he didn’t want it to.

“Whoops,” he muttered, still feeling around, grabbing her arm. “The fuck did you do to me, woman?” he asked, shaking her around just a little.

“Sheesh, calm down. You look great. Just hold still a little longer.” Rangiku then let out a long hum. Ikkaku finally let his tense muscles relax. A grin slipped back onto his face. “Hah! See, you don’t hate me. You would’ve been lost without my help.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, I guess.”

“Good enough.” She rummaged for something, placed something cold right on top of his cut and then dabbed at it, blowing on it. Then she lightly touched his eyelid. “Okaaay, open your eyes!” He opened his eyes carefully and saw that she was holding a mirror. He leaned forward to check his face and noticed black lines that made his eyes look more slanted. Ah, that was supposed to look like it was his eyelashes. There were also red tags at the corners of his eyes. The cut on his cheek was invisible as well.

He blinked a couple times and stared at himself, lips parting. He… he liked it.

"Why the red? I look like a maiko."

"A really scary one."

He shrugged, then looked up and grinned, standing up. “Oi, tell Yumichika to wait here for me. I’ll be right back.”

“What? Where are you going?” Rangiku called as he made it to the door.

“I’ll be back, just have him wait! Tell him I’ll pick him up here in an hour and a half!”

“Uh, okay,” she said, taken aback, but then smiled, giving him a thumbs-up signal. “He’ll probably like the time to go home and make himself pretty.”

“Like hell he could look any better than he a’ready does!” Ikkaku said, leaving the store. He could see Rangiku laughing in there, and grinned wolvishly, taking off down the street.

Fuck, he had a date! Yumichika had said yes! It looked like whatever he’d had going on with Hisagi hadn’t been that serious, and even if they’d done it, well who the fuck cared? Yumichika liked him, he really liked him!

He took a jump over an open manhole and began laughing, exhilarated and overjoyed, running to the train-station as fast as his legs could take him.  
  
“Tsu-tsu-tsuiii, ts-ts-tsu-tsuiii, _tsuiiii!”_


	13. Chapter 13

By the time Ikkaku got off the JR and ran the rest of the way to the garage, he was sweaty as fuck, and quickly changed his t-shirt with an extra he’d luckily stashed in his locker.

This _huge_ red-haired guy who was always wearing steam-punk goggles as a head-band called Kidd was already there, probably having just arrived to start the late shift. “Hey, Madarame!” he called, overly loud as usual.

“Yo!”

“What’s got’cha’ in such a hurry? Instant ramen wait’n’ fer’ ya’?” Kidd jeered, smirking. Ikkaku didn’t have the energy to pick shit with him, too excited to do anything but approach his bike where it was on a rack, one wheel propped up.

“No way! I’ve got a hot date!” Kidd raised a hairless eyebrow skeptically. “Shut up, I do!”

“Y’know, I just got my bullshit alarm fixed, and- Whoa, what the fuck d’you think yer’ doin’?” Kidd snapped in the middle of his sentence, approaching him when he got his bike down and jammed the key in. “I’m not done fixing that, you stupid bastard!”

“It wasn’t broken when I brought it in, dumbass. I just need it for tonight!”

“You must’a’ replaced yer’ brain with a rock! It’s here fer’ a reason! You’d better not take that thing, man!” Kidd threatened, raising an allen-wrench. “Fuckin’ stupid-head!”

“Whatever, Kiddo,” Ikkaku jibed, clicking the garage door open and gunning the engine. He popped his dark helmet over his head and escaped before Kidd could get to him and crush him to death.

It took him about forty minutes to bike all the way back into Akihabara, and he worked down his extra energy by doing scats of his lucky-song all the way there.

He parked his bike on the curb in front of the shop and hopped off, heading inside even though the shop was clearly closed now. Yumichika was there waiting for him with Rangiku, who was cleaning the flat surfaces around the store.

Ikkaku had to stop and stare at him for a moment, getting slightly nervous again. Yumichika was in grey skinny jeans that clung to his legs just enough but not too much, and had a purplish-burgundy button-up on as a top, the sleeves rolled up to the elbow. What caught his eye most of all were these bright lash-extensions that fluttered each time he blinked. Not only that, he must’ve done… _something_ else too, because he just seemed to _shimmer._ He… he just completely took Ikkaku’s breath away.

“You look amazing,” he said dazedly, the ‘whoa’ tone plain in his voice. His shoulders hung loosely, and suddenly he felt he’d gotten in over his head. Yumichika just smiled that sly little smile, and Ikkaku couldn’t help but crack a crooked grin too.

“I’d better. I went home and back for this,” Yumichika joked. “Are you ready to go now? What were you doing?” he asked suspiciously, tapping one foot. “You don’t look any different…” Scrutinizing Ikkaku closer, he jumped back slightly. “Wow, look at you! I didn’t know you had that type of skill! Look how nice you look!”

“Oh this?” Ikkaku asked after a moment, gesturing to his face. “Nah, Matsumoto helped me.”

“Hm,” Yumichika noted, nodding in approval. Ikkaku just cleared his throat and looked at his feet, pleased with himself. “Meanwhile, if she did your makeup before you left, then what were you doing at home? You didn’t change clothes at all, so…”

“Oh no, I wasn’t getting ready,” Ikkaku blurted out. Yumichika’s brow furrowed. “I told you, this was all spontaneous. I was just going to get my bike, so I could take you out,” Ikkaku said with a grin, gesturing back out to his motorcycle. Yumichika’s eyebrows raised, face going slack. “I figured you probably didn’t have a car, and well… I just thought you might enjoy being driven around,” he muttered, realizing he hadn’t thought this through. A lot of people didn’t like motorcycles for safety reasons.

“Ah, I see,” Yumichika said, somewhat uncomfortably. “Well,” he then went on, sucking in an anticipatory breath, “Let’s get going, then.”

“Yosh!” Ikkaku said with relish, holding the door open for Yumichika, who walked out past him, leaving behind a trail of the best perfume Ikkaku had ever smelled before. He followed behind dazedly, just barely lucid enough to wave a goodbye to Rangiku, who was telling them to have a good time and to let her know how it went. He had to remember to get her a thank you card or something.

“Okay, so, you want the helmet?” Ikkaku offered, handing it to him. “Wouldn’t want your hair to get all messed up in the wind… Plus, gotta’ protect your head, huh. Wouldn’t wanna’ break your bones.” Yumichika looked considerably relieved, and took it in his hands, turning it over and over for a moment.

“What about you? What if you get hurt?”

Ikkaku waved a hand, indicating that he’d be fine. “Passenger takes priority. Yer’ precious cargo, ‘heh,” he joked, feeling brave enough to try to show some affection, no matter how awkward it came out. “Don’t you worry about me.”

Yumichika shrugged and carefully lifted the helmet on, trying to work out how to put it on without wrecking his eyelashes.

“Wait, so where are we going?” Ikkaku asked, steam running out slightly. He bounced where he stood on the wet pavement. Lucky~ He was so lucky!

“I said we’re going dancing, remember?”

“Yeah, I know, but you also said’ja’ hated nightclubs!” Ikkaku reminded him right back. Yumichika shrugged lightly.

“I know a place. I’ll point you the right way as we drive.”

“Hm… Somehow I’m getting’ the feelin’ that my wallet’s gonna’ be achin’ by the end’a’ tha’ night,” Ikkaku muttered, but somehow he couldn’t put any real malice into the words. He was still just so hyped up and pumped that he could hardly stand still.

“Don't I deserve to be spoiled?” Ikkaku just grinned at him, totally agreeing. With that, he mounted his motorcycle and put up the kickstand, moving it backwards slightly so that Yumichika could get on.

Yumichika looked at the bike for a few moments, before approaching and putting one hand on Ikkaku’s shoulder, doing a little hop to get on. Ikkaku held them steady with his leg. God, he was cute, wasn’t he. . . Ikkaku just smiled and kept his mouth shut until Yumichika got his leg over the other side and scootched up to him, hanging on by putting his hands behind him on the back of the bike.

“You good?” Yumichika made an indecisive noise and then asked him how long he’d had his license. Ikkaku laughed a little. “Don’t worry 'bout a thing. Just put your helmet on and relax.”

“Do I have to do anything else?” Yumichika asked.

“Sure,” Ikkaku said, thinking. He’d let Izuru ride on the back of his bike before, and it hadn’t gone badly, but even so, it could’ve gone _better…_ “It’ll make it easier for me to drive if you don’t throw your weight around. When I turn, you’ll feel like you have to balance the weight and lean to the side, but _I’m_ gonna’ do it, so you just sit still, alright?” Yumichika’s mouth drew in a tense line. “Hey, just chill, okay? All you have to do is relax. You can hold onto me if it’d make you feel better.”

Yumichika nodded and scooted closer, putting one arm on Ikkaku’s side. Ikkaku looked back to him to check how he was sitting. “Try not to move your feet, either, so that I don’t tangle up with you when I shift gears.”

“Okay, got it. Just sit still, I can do that,” Yumichika said calmly, nodding. Glad that he understood and that he was willing to let him do this, Ikkaku grinned .

“Great. Put that helmet on, hot stuff,” he reminded. Yumichika worked it over his head, and Ikkaku patted the top of it a couple times to make sure it was snugly in place. Yumichika said something to him, slapping his hands away. “Sorry,” he muttered with a laugh, sure that the claps to his head sounded louder on the inside.

“Okay, we’re gonna’ get going now. Remember, I need directions, so don’t fall asleep,” Ikkaku said. Yumichika snorted, and if Ikkaku could’ve seen his face, he’s sure he would’ve been rolling his eyes.

Ikkaku then rolled the bike out towards the street and turned it on, gunning the engine a couple times. Then he shifted into first gear and pushed them off, pulling onto the road. Not used to the extra weight, they wavered once before he straightened out, but Yumichika immediately seized up and grabbed him.

Ikkaku couldn’t turn around, focused on the road and the cool whip of air past his face, but he put one hand down to pat Yumichika’s leg and rub slightly. Yumichika’s grip relaxed slightly, and adjusted, leaving both his arms wrapped around Ikkaku, his body pressing directly against his back. Ikkaku was pretty happy about that.

His motorcycle was handling all right, so Ikkaku mentally said ‘fuck-you’ to Kidd and his fucking ridiculousness. His bike was fine.

After a bit of driving, Yumichika relaxed a bunch and let his arms drop around Ikkaku’s stomach, hands loosely interlocked near the top of his jeans. Ikkaku just enjoyed driving, grinning his ass off. Yumichika was pretty toasty. Eventually, Yumichika tapped him and pointed towards an intersection and then made a left gesture. Ikkaku gave a thumbs-up and changed lanes, weaving through taxis and buses to get over there.

Yumichika grabbed him again when he made the large turn. It probably felt like they were going to fall, but Yumichika just held onto him and didn’t lean, luckily enough. A large enough lurch could’ve made them crash. Ikkaku grinned and got them on the highway, revving the gas and accelerating considerably. Yumichika squeezed him like he thought they were gonna’ die, and Ikkaku laughed a little.

It didn’t take long for Ikkaku to realize that Yumichika was leading them to Roppongi. He stopped at a toll-booth and drove on, and in about twenty minutes, Ikkaku was getting completely weirded out, because the place Yumichika had them stop at was probably a ten minute walk from his house and pretty much _right_ across the street from Tokyo Midtown. Hisagi’s housing unit was right on the other side of the main road too. Yumichika had brought them to this high-class club called Feria.

Ikkaku was pleased to note that this place was in the nice part of Roppongi, which he lived on the outskirts of. He’d never actually been inside, but he knew the place was famous and whatnot, and had a pretty expensive bottle service. Shrugging, he slowed them down and rolled them towards the curb.

Considering it was Friday night, of course there were bouncers near the door and there was a line to get in, but Ikkaku just parked them on the other side of the road in front of the seven-eleven, chaining his bike to a pole.

Yumichika set himself down on the ground and stretched, taking the helmet off and checking his face in its reflection. As he preened himself, Ikkaku put his hands in his pockets, sizing the club up and the music that was vibrating the street beneath his feet. The place was four-stories, with five floors supposedly. Near the door and the ticket-booth, facing the street, was a concrete wall that stretched upwards over all four floors. Set in the center of the wall was a huge hanging garden to give the place more aesthetic quality, not that it needed it. The place had a fucking red carpet on the way inside and little beige colored lamps sticking out of the walls. 

“Feria?” Ikkaku noted.

“Yes.”

“We’re actually like five minutes from my place,” he said shortly. Yumichika made a noise to acknowledge his statement, like that was interesting. Ikkaku sized up the building once more, not knowing if he liked the looks of it. This was the type of expensive stuck-up place that he usually trashtalked...

“You been inside here before?” he asked somewhat uneasily.

“Yes. Let’s go in,” Yumichika said with a smile, and they approached the end of the small line, standing around and waiting to pay the entrance fee. There was a goddamn TV above the ticket booth! Sheesh!

Ikkaku sweat slightly. “How much are we talkin’ here to get in?” he asked Yumichika, leaning towards his companion’s ear.

“Four thousand for men,” Yumichika replied, cleaning dirt from under his nails. Ikkaku grimaced and shifted his weight a few times as if to mull it over before getting his wallet out.

“Alright, I got it.” After he’d coughed up and they’d gotten their drink tickets, they went in down a hallway. Ikkaku absently looked to the left through a bunch of glass doors that showed a classy looking check-in area that looked like a hotel’s entrance. There were plush-seats and flower vases all over, black marble floors. That led into a restaurant that was fucking _packed_ with people. "What the hell kind of club is this?. . ."

Yumichika took him by the wrist when he got distracted and Ikkaku immediately pulled away on instinct, but then on second thought, put his hand back into Yumichika’s and let himself be led along, his eyes shifting around somewhat suspiciously. No one bothered them though, even though this place was crawling with people. Most of the girls were really dressed up, Ikkaku noticed.

Passing through a small lobby with grey tiles, they left the elevator alone and headed for the stairs, weaving past some unsteady drunks. Ikkaku was immediately assaulted by some heavy electronic music that seemed to be by Stereociti, the overpumped bass hitting against his ribcage with each beat. He could see strobe lights, which revealed fluttering glimpses of writhing sweaty bodies. People were crammed like sardines down there. _Forget_ holding onto a drink.

“Uhgk,” Yumichika scoffed, lip curling, “Just look at that tragic mess.” Ikkaku looked for a moment more, humming, although it went unheard, due to the heavy bass. Yumichika leaned towards him, gesturing down there once more, “I mean, why would you go through all the effort to do your makeup just to sweat it off in a dark room? Ridiculous.”

“They sure look gross and sweaty, too,” Ikkaku noted, and Yumichika compared the place to a sauna, in which the steam was induced simply by having too many horny people in close proximity. Ikkaku had had it by that point.

“You call this _classy?”_ Ikkaku stressed, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you said you hated nightclubs for literally this _exact_ reason.”

“What? You think we’re going down _there?_ As if,” Yumichika said, as if the very idea offended him. “If that’s actually your idea of a good time, you can just take me home right now.” Ikkaku stayed silent as Yumichika led him upstairs, but it became clear that he wanted an actual response to that, because he stared resolutely at Ikkaku’s face. Ikkaku was still so preoccupied with the fact that Yumichika was holding his hand that it took him a minute to think up a reply.

“Uh, well, I’d rather get to know somebody a little better before they rub their parts all over me,” Ikkaku muttered somewhat awkwardly, having to lean close to Yumichika in order to be heard by him and not have to shout for everyone to notice. “Besides, I won’t even be able to talk to you down there. Can’t hear shit even from this far away. How'm I even supposed to dance with you all crammed together like that, anyway?”

Yumichika pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes.

“What?”

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you,” Yumichika replied with a sudden flash of that perfect smile. Ikkaku straight up blushed and shook out of Yumichika’s grasp, heading up the rest of the stairs on his own, scowling the whole way.

Yumichika, laughing like the smug bastard he was, latched back onto his arm by the time they made it to the second floor. Ikkaku paused for a moment, surveying the significantly smaller area and noting the R&B music playing overhead. No one was dancing in there. Yumichika tugged on his sleeve, pointing upwards again and taking him up the next flight of stairs. Edging towards him to talk to him, Ikkaku leaned down at the same time in order to hear. “The third floor is a lot smaller, but it doesn’t get as packed and you can actually get the bartender’s attention for drinks.”

Ikkaku nodded and let Yumichika lead him up there. Weaving through the significantly sparser crowd, they picked a place that would afford them personal space – not from each other, obviously, but from strangers – but not leave them completely isolated.

Ikkaku grinned and grabbed Yumichika’s arms and pulled him towards him sharply, causing him to crash against his chest. Overconfident now that he’d gotten Yumichika out all to himself, he wrinkled his nose and rubbed it against Yumichika’s a little bit, swaying a little to the beat of the music. This club was not his type of place, but who didn't like dancing?

Yumichika raised an eyebrow as Ikkaku slid against him and tried to make him start dancing. “Don’t expect me to give you a standing lap dance,” Yumichika said sarcastically, at which Ikkaku backed up in surprise. Taking his reaction as being caught red-handed, Yumichika’s expression soured. “What, was your plan to have me facing away from you the whole night and grinding on you?” he assumed sarcastically.

“No! What the fuck?! Why do you keep doing that?!” Ikkaku snapped loudly enough that he didn’t have to get close to Yumichika’s ear. “I’m just tryin’a’ dance with you, a’right? I’m just tryin’a’ have _fun –_ you heard’a’ that?” Yumichika drew back, indignantly, but Ikkaku didn’t let the matter drop. “Just shut up already and dance instead of criticizing me for something I didn’t even do! Dance already, c’mon!” he shouted, grinning at the end and pulling Yumichika’s arms back and forth with the beat to try to get him to start moving, causing Yumichika to melt into a smile.

Dusker was playing, and although there weren’t any words, Ikkaku recognized the song and began dancing, letting Yumichika go so he could cut loose. Staying face to face, Yumichika watched him for a moment before he began bouncing to the beat too, neither of them straying too far out of the personal space bubble of the other, but still not too close.

Ikkaku’s face began to hurt from grinning as he watched Yumichika move. He didn’t dance like one of those unfortunate people who obviously wanted to dance but didn’t know how and resorted to just jumping in place. Yumichika actually had pretty okay rhythm _._ True, he didn't look practiced or anything, but he didn’t suck, and that was really something.

“You’re pretty good!” Ikkaku complimented, and Yumichika just smiled back in a sweet manner, not replying, just sliding a little closer to him, curling one arm around his neck. It restricted their movements a little to be in a closer proximity, but Ikkaku sure wasn’t complaining about that; Yumichika smelled so nice, and he could still tell over the nearly overwhelming smell of alcohol and incense.

While normally, having such close bodily contact so soon would’ve been a problem for him, it was dancing, and was sort of different, because there was intent behind it, rather than it being contact solely for contact’s sake. Besides that, there was something about this atmosphere, something about Yumichika that just made Ikkaku like having him in his arms. It was clear that Yumichika meant him no harm, that Yumichika was just having fun with him and that he didn’t have to worry about things moving too fast. He wasn’t getting that cold clammy sweaty feeling or that urge to push him away; he wasn’t nervous at all. 

Somehow, this entire date thing was no longer scary. It was just like Renji had said. They were adults, and there wasn’t supposed to be fear involved when getting to know someone. A date wasn’t supposed to be scary or stressful or painfully awkward. It was supposed to be fun and feel nice, and it totally was. It was freeing, really, to feel secure enough to reach out and touch someone without any sort of anxiety; he knew Yumichika liked him, and Yumichika knew that he liked him back, and he was free to breach the space between them if he so chose. He was free to be affectionate, free to treat him nice.

The room had filled up a bit more, causing them to be forced closer to each other, because there were always a couple of jerks in any club roaming around and barreling though the crowd to purposefully brush against people. It didn’t bother them at all as they watched each other dance. Even though it wasn’t the best atmosphere for conversation, it was clear to both of them that the other was having a good time. Every once in a while, Ikkaku would take Yumichika’s hands and hold them while they danced, and Yumichika would squeeze back.

After a few songs of non-stop bopping, Yumichika finally let out a breath and stopped dancing, taking Ikkaku’s arm and meeting his eyes. Ikkaku followed him out into the lobby, leading them through the crowd and keeping a firm grip on Yumichika’s hand so he wouldn’t lose him on accident.

When they got out into the well-lit considerably quieter lobby, Ikkaku’s ears took a moment to recover, and he realized he was somewhat breathless. They’d probably been in there for forty-five minutes easy. He felt great, they should keep going! He was having a blast!

“What say we get a drink?” Yumichika proposed. “I’m starting to cramp up.”

Once Yumichika said that, he cooled his jets. More tired out and sweaty than he’d thought, Ikkaku thought going to get a drink was a good idea. He was still so hopped up from the energy-boost that the club atmosphere and being with Yumichika had given him that he hadn’t even noticed that he was fading fast. “Okay. There’s a bar back in there,” he said, slightly confused.

Instead, Yumichika went for a vending machine and got an apple tea. Ikkaku just hung around silently while Yumichika drank some of it and then threw the rest away. “C’mon, let’s go back in,” Yumichika said enthusiastically, pretty much dragging him back in there.

“Whoa, sheesh!” he laughed.

Yumichika pulled him through this crowd that could’ve just as easily been called a grind-train towards a more sparsely peopled corner. Ikkaku awkwardly stood still, eyes flicking around as Yumichika turned around to him and began dancing again.

It seemed like in the time they'd left, everybody had decided that this song was making them horny, and rather than focus on that and the cold sweat that was prickling on his neck as a result, Ikkaku just tried to pay attention to Yumichika. Problem was, Yumichika seemed to be responding to whatever energy was in the room too, because he was sidling pretty close to him, working his body in a way that made Ikkaku suddenly want to leave.

He swallowed hard, clenching his hands into fists, not feeling it all of a sudden. Yumichika seemed to notice, slowing down, smile fading. Ikkaku was suddenly aware of the fact that there was an incredible pressure on him right now. This was a first date, and it was how they’d set the tone of their relationship – if Ikkaku denied Yumichika something he wanted, what would he think? Things would end just as they always did. He’d end up trying to explain, and it would come out wrong, like it _always_ did. ‘No, I don’t want you’ never seemed to make the right impression. He didn’t want to have to turn Yumichika down or tell him to please, _please_ stop, but the alternative was to pretend. Surely Yumichika would want to dance like these other people were; that’s what his body language led Ikkaku to believe, at least. If he didn’t comply, Yumichika would think he wasn’t attracted to him, that he didn’t _like_ him, and then all of Ikkaku’s efforts to get Yumichika to give him a chance would be _over,_ because Yumichika would be done with him. He didn’t want that to happen, but he just- just didn’t think he could- could just-

Shit, he was overthinking it. The air was too hot and moist with the lust that was charging the entire room, the pressure overwhelming. Yumichika had already said he didn’t want Ikkaku to grind on him, so he should be safe, but he just suddenly felt really out of place and stupid and like an _alien._ He hadn't thought this through to its logical conclusion. Even if everything went well and their night went great, _eventually_ Yumichika would want that, right? And then what was Ikkaku supposed to do? _Tell the truth?_ Tell the truth and have it blow up in his face like always?

He was starting to sway slightly, and not in a good way – in a I’m-about-to-fucking-fall-over way. It was too hot in here all of a sudden, and the lights were too bright and the shadows were too dark, and he was breathing too hard. There were too many people in here and they were all touching him and he didn’t like it at all. They were closing in, and he felt like he had to shove out around him and get himself some fresh air and personal space. He wanted to leave. He wanted to go home.

Ugh, why now? Why was he having to deal with this _now?_

There was a touch to his cheek that caused Ikkaku to cast his gaze back up; he shuddered with fruitless shallow breaths and stared at Yumichika, who was rubbing a thumb across his face comfortingly. Ikkaku swallowed and gasped a few times, trying to reach out to him to tell him that they had to leave, that they had get fresh air for a minute, just a minute please or he would go down like a chopped tree. He just needed to go outside until the song changed and the energy in this room died back down. Just for a minute, he just needed to breathe for a minute.

Yumichika took one of his hands and pulled it around him, leaving Ikkaku holding his back and waist. He put his own arms up around Ikkaku’s neck, leaving a couple inches of breathing room between them. Ikkaku instantly was calmed, feeling like having both of their backs outwards like this was a buffer or a shield from the bodies pressing in around them. 

He leaned towards Ikkaku’s ear and whispered, “What’s wrong? You look like you’re going to faint.”

Ikkaku just wrapped his arms more firmly around Yumichika’s back, confidence returning, that hot flash of uncertainty and self-loathing fleeing as easily as it had come. “’M okay. You shoulda’ saved somea’ that drink for me though,” he muttered back with a sheepish grin.

“You should have said!” Yumichika replied with a grin, swaying them, worming the toes of his shoes onto Ikkaku’s feet. Ikkaku was suddenly able to breathe easy again; they were technically in a slow-dancing position and this was technically a song that should involve thrusting one’s hips and gyrating around, but they both ignored that.

“Just one last song, and we’ll go get a drink for you, since you’re so _thirsty,”_ Yumichika teased, tugging Ikkaku’s ear. “I’d hate to have to carry you out of here.” He tugged on his ear again. Ikkaku grimaced, flinging his head out of his grip, fixing his hands on Yumichika’s waist.

“Yeah, whatever. An’ I’d hate to be unconscious durin’ it.” Yumichika looked stunned for a moment and then burst into peals of laughter, flopping his head onto Ikkaku’s shoulder for a second, overcome by hilarity.

Ikkaku grinned and held Yumichika closer, hands molded against the area of Yumichika’s torso that angled and narrowed into his waist, just before widening again down to his hips. Sheesh, Yumichika was so slim and slender, and the flexing of his body beneath his hands was just fascinating. He could feel every muscle move, every twist, every stretch. Yumichika felt like a rubber band, flexible and lithe and perfect.

“Ikkaku?”

“Hm?”

“I said, the song’s over, let’s go,” Yumichika said, snapping Ikkaku back to reality.

“Oh right, okay,” Ikkaku replied dazedly, smiling a little bit, letting his grip slip off of Yumichika, fingers lingering just for a moment. It was hard to let go for some reason.

Yumichika took them back out into the lobby and stretched himself, revealing just an inch of creamy-colored stomach. Ikkaku tugged his shirt down for him teasingly. “Oi, careful. You want everyone ta’ see yer’ belly button?”

Yumichika just swatted him with an eyeroll and a smile. “Come on, back downstairs,” he beckoned, linking two fingers into Ikkaku’s hand. They were getting looks from people, but at this point, you couldn’t have ruined Ikkaku’s mood by breaking his fucking legs.

Heading onto the R&B level, Ikkaku followed Yumichika towards the bar, looking around with mild interest. The color scheme of the room was definitely to his tastes. The walls were red, and the booths set around the wall were bright-red leather, all slightly raised up onto dark wooden panels, leaving the matted floor free for people to pass through easily. On the back wall was a long bartop with bright stage-style lights behind it.

There were some couples making out in the corners, which Ikkaku noted mildly as he picked an open stool at the bar, snagging it for Yumichika to use. He grinned at his date, who graciously took the seat and crossed one gorgeous long leg over the other. Ikkaku leaned up against the countertop and handed their drink tickets to the bartender, ordering for them. Ikkaku chose liquor, limiting himself to one drink, since he’d be driving them home. Yumichika chose a cocktail.

“This place is okay,” Ikkaku commented, glancing across the room. There was a door there that led to another small bar outside and a grey staircase that led up. “It’s pretty at least… like you,” he said lowly, not able to look at Yumichika when he said it.

Yumichika actually snorted into his drink and had to set it down, coughing hard. Ikkaku scowled at his hands. “I’m sorry,” Yumichika laughed, “I know you’re trying your best, but you’re just s-so-” He dissolved into a fit of laughter then, eyes scrunched up and beaming. Grumbling, Ikkaku crossed his arms, glaring at nothing.

“So cute,” Yumichika finally finished, sighing and leaning onto one elbow, gazing at Ikkaku with his head cocked, his finger stirring his drink. Ikkaku literally recoiled, taking a step back like Yumichika had said he was going to dump his cocktail down his shirt.

Recovering from his surprise, Ikkaku snarled, “I’m not cute! I’m kickass!” Yumichika’s smile just became larger and more fond, and Ikkaku felt that he’d lost. “Eh, whatever,” he muttered, figuring he’d let Yumichika get away with it.

“So,” Yumichika said as Ikkaku hopped onto a stool next to him that was vacated by a man who had gotten a phone call. Ikkaku turned fully sideways in it to face him. Usually he was a zealous drinker, but for now, his drink was forgotten in his hand.

“How is it that you like me enough that you went through so much trouble, as you say?” Yumichika asked with no small amount of intrigue in his voice, his smile sly and smug as he stirred his drink more. Ikkaku felt intimidated and somewhat embarrassed by Yumichika’s demeanor and straight-forward question, but he didn’t lie.

“One day I was walkin’ past in the rain an’ I stopped under the shop’s awning for shelter, an’ I saw you workin’.”

“Ah yes, the day you had no umbrella,” Yumichika noted.

“No, this’s before then. I first saw you a few days before.”

“And you didn’t come inside?” Yumichika asked curiously, seeming mildly confused, one gorgeous dark eyebrow creasing. “Why not?”

“I… I dunno’,” Ikkaku muttered, perfectly fine with saying anything other than that he’d been _shy._ “Was late for work.” That was true, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t dodging the question. “I just saw you and thought that I had to go back and meet’cha’.”

“Why?” Yumichika asked directly, eyes drilling into him. Ikkaku felt like he was under the gun, but strangely… he wasn’t afraid of death.

“Because,” he replied, “You’re beautiful.”

That had the opposite effect that he’d expected it to. Rather than smiling and accepting the compliment, Yumichika’s expression soured considerably. He raised an eyebrow slightly and let it fall back down, his eyes narrowing slightly and drifting off to the side, one lid dipping lower than the other in the signature ‘evil-eye’ flutter. He cleaned some invisible food out his teeth with his tongue for a second too, obviously ticked about something, but for the life of him, Ikkaku couldn’t figure out what.

“I watched you for a little bit from the window, and I could see your skill and how much you seemed to love your job. I wanted to meet you. You seemed really interesting and… I was… impressed,” he admitted, looking at the countertop. It was quiet for a little bit. Yumichika seemed to have paused to listen.

“And then when I had the balls to go in, I liked you even more. You were real sweet to me when I was all wet and shit and treated me real nice. I just… I like you a lot and I thought those things about you were worth it to go see you, even if I made a fool outta’ myself.” When he looked back up, Yumichika was staring directly at him, snobbish irritated expression gone. “What?” Ikkaku asked.

Yumichika looked at him for a moment longer, lips parted, colorful eyelashes fluttering. All of a sudden he just gushed, “You never stop surprising me,” sounding breathless. Ikkaku swallowed hard.

He gave a nervous-sounding laugh, compulsively scratching his sweaty neck. “Heh’, really? People always’re tellin’ me how predictable I am.”

“How can that be when you’re so spontaneous?” Yumichika asked, still sounding breathtaken and awed, looking at Ikkaku like he was something special and precious. It was immensely intimidating to Ikkaku, feeling that he’d made the wrong impression on Yumichika. Sure, he wanted Yumichika to like him, but he felt like Yumichika thought he was… better than he actually _was…_ It wasn’t like he was a rare find, or a particularly good catch or something.

“That’s what people count on me for: crazy impulsive decisions.”

“Was this all an impulse then?” Yumichika went on to ask after a pause.

“No,” Ikkaku confessed, struggling with it for a moment, “I thought about this for a while…”

“But you said it was spur of the moment.”

“It was, but it was based on thought,” Ikkaku explained. “I usually live ta’ regret my impulses, Yumichika-san. But you can’t be an impulse, ‘cause I’d never regret _you,_ huh? How could I do somethin’ dumb like that?” He let his hand touch Yumichika’s, settling over it with trepidation, as if he thought Yumichika would smack his hand off. Yumichika let it stay there.

 

“Careful now, you’ll make me blush, Ikkaku-san,” Yumichika said with a low laugh, sipping from his drink and raising his eyebrows enticingly as he did so. 

“Hey, you want another of those? You can have my other drink ticket,” he offered. Yumichika accepted and tried a martini and a shot, taking the alcohol relatively well for someone of his size. “Yumichika, there’s someplace else I wanna’ take you,” Ikkaku said. “It’s another club and they’re really small, so there won’t be many people there. You feel up to it?”

Yumichika rolled one shoulder languidly, smiling. “Let’s stay here a little longer first. Do you want to go up on the roof?” he suggested, setting his empty glass back on the counter for the bartender to take.

“Alright, you want to look at the stars before we go?” Ikkaku asked.

“There’s no stars out in the city, are you joking?” Yumichika replied flatly.

“Sheesh, the moon then, the _moon,_ dreamkiller!” Yumichika laughed as if he were funny, like he’d been doing all night. Ikkaku just wasn’t used to someone thinking he was funny, same way he wasn’t used to someone thinking he was cute, interesting, or surprising.

As they headed out into that small lobby Ikkaku had seen before and they went up the stairs, he adjusted to yet another atmosphere. It was pretty romantic, a terrace with patio tiles, light-tan umbrellas that were welded to the floor, metal furniture with beige cushions, and plants everywhere. There was a nice view of the city, and there were dark wooden panels set up around the area to keep any drunks from falling off the roof of the building.

Sitting over on an unoccupied sofa, Ikkaku stretched his legs out and put his arms over the backboard. Yumichika sat on the adjacent cushion, not too close, but not too far away either, one leg crossing over the other.

It was nice up there, not to mention the only people up here were in pairs. There were a lot of guys doing the should-I shouldn’t-I dance where they’d stand next to a girl and jam their hands in their pockets, swaying from one foot to the other, trying to work up the courage to just make a move, while the girl obviously grew anxious and impatient. Once in awhile someone would finally kiss someone else or one would light up with a smile and they’d exchange phone numbers. Sometimes the people would leave together, obviously eager to get home. All of this was of no consequence, however, and he paid it no attention.

Ikkaku let out a long sigh of contentment, the distant sounds of the city below having become a comfort to him. Even the sirens and show music seemed peaceful.

“I like it up here,” Yumichika commented, “Nice view.” He said this while looking straight at Ikkaku’s face. Ikkaku turned away sharply, hyperaware of how Yumichika’s back was touching his arm where it was up on top of the bench. It’d be easy to lean over and kiss him, since it was clear that Yumichika was setting him up just like the rest of the people up here, but Ikkaku was a pretty private guy, and not super into showing affection even when _in_ private.

He sure wasn’t used to being openly flirted with, but now that he knew Yumichika liked him back, it felt less like a threat and more. . . warm? He didn’t know, it just kind of felt good on his self-esteem; it made him feel secure enough to try to flirt back.

“Eh’, I like lookin’ at you better,” he said, and although it sounded a little awkward, Yumichika just laughed again and turned towards him, one leg up on the bench and his arm leaning on the back of the couch.

“Ah, pitiful,” Yumichika whined, pinching Ikkaku’s cheek, telling him he was helplessly pathetic in a way that was endearing and cute. Ikkaku didn’t exactly appreciate that, but again, he let it slide.

“Oi, quit makin’ funna’ me, I’m tryin’ my best here,” he grunted. Yumichika smiled.

“I know, and it’s absolutely darling,” he replied, twirling a finger around a piece of shiny hair. Ikkaku raised an eyebrow, thinking Yumichika thought he was adorable in a ‘wow-you-actually-think-you-have-a-chance’ way.

“What does that mean, you think I'm a fuckin' chump?”

Yumichika smiled a little bit more. “I think you’re exceptionally sweet.” Ikkaku cleared his throat and looked at his hands.

“Psssh.” He waved a hand, trying to play it off, but failing miserably. “Aw, pssh,” he muttered, grinning stupidly. Yumichika merely smiled, still fiddling with his hair. “Y’know,” Ikkaku said leadingly, smiling like a dork, “I think this date is goin’ pretty good.” Yumichika smiled as if he were the most charming thing in the world, but didn’t reply.

“So,” Ikkaku then said, slapping his hands onto the tops of his knees, making to stand up, “I’m sick of watching people _not_ kissing. You wanna’ get going?... I know it cost a bunch to get in here, but there’s still somewhere else I wanna’ take you.” He stood, offering a hand to Yumichika. However, Yumichika had already stood up, and Ikkaku dropped his hand in slight disappointment, not having the gall to just take Yumichika’s hand anyways.

“Lead the way,” Yumichika said, linking his arm through Ikkaku’s, which was a little awkward, since Ikkaku just stood there like a petrified tree for a moment, staring at him dumbly. Finally he jolted into action and wormed them back out through the club and outside onto the street. 


	14. Chapter 14

When they got outside, Ikkaku headed across the small street to his bike, taking a moment to appreciate the fresh air, now that they weren’t breathing the steam from a thousand heated bodies.

“So, where are you taking me?” Yumichika asked half-coyly, half-suspiciously.

“Just let it be a surprise,” Ikkaku replied, fiddling with the chain on his bike, opening his english-letter combination lock one letter at a time. ‘L-U-C-K,’ who would have guessed.

“I hate surprises,” Yumichika sniffed, sticking his nose in the air with his arms crossed. Ikkaku looked up in exasperation to see Yumichika looking extremely sassy and displeased _._

“What’s this, huh? _No?_ Okay, okay, sheesh,” Ikkaku said, holding up his hands to try to pacify him. “It’s another club.” Yumichika’s expression soured, so Ikkaku leapt to explain, “No wait! It’s this really small rock-bar. It’s like a thirty-person capacity, but it’s nice, ‘cause it’s small and dark an’ the workers are really friendly… It’d just be more private? Y’know, we can…” Yumichika’s eyebrows were disappearing into his hair. What? Had there been an innuendo there?

“Talk,” Ikkaku finally finished. “So that I won’t feel like people are starin’ at us if I try an’ hold you,” he muttered. Yumichika stared at him harshly for a few moments, like he thought that if he said ‘okay,’ he’d be letting Ikkaku get away with something, but he wasn’t sure what. “It’s seriously a three minute drive from here,” Ikkaku promised. “If you see it and don’t want to go in, I’ll totally take you home.”

“Well alright,” Yumichika said begrudgingly, shifting his weight from side to side somewhat nervously. “But only because you’ve been so nice,” he added more quietly.

“Eesh, just get on,” Ikkaku griped, ignoring the laughter from behind him as he mounted his bike and turned it on, rolling it towards the curb so Yumichika could hop on the back. “I’m wearing the helmet this time, alright? We’re goin’ slow, so your hair’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Yumichika chirped.

Once he was sure Yumichika was holding on properly and ready to go, he kicked off of the curb, pretty much just letting the bike idle as they rolled down the thin street. When they got to the first crossroad, Ikkaku looked both ways and gunned the engine just slightly to get them through the light. Yumichika suddenly switched his hold on him and wrapped both arms around his neck, leaning over his shoulder.

Ikkaku grinned like a maniac inside his helmet and revved the engine threateningly, jolting them forward once. Yumichika eeped and wrapped both his legs around Ikkaku’s waist, clinging onto him tightly. “Stop laughing!” Yumichika shouted in his ear, able to hear him cackling in there.

“We’re almost there already, just chill,” Ikkaku said loudly, voice slightly muffled as he weaved his bike through the foot-traffic. “Damn, these fuckin’ streets are crowded.”

“Aren’t you used to it? You said you live close by, and this place is famous for the nightlife,” Yumichika replied, close to where he must assume his ear was outside the black helmet. Ikkaku was surprised and a little speechless that Yumichika had remembered; he’d assumed Yumichika hadn’t been listening when he’d said that.

“Ah, not really. I usually stay in on weekdays once I’m off work, so… I haven’t really sampled many of the high points. I like me a little peace an’ quiet.” His voice trailed off as they pulled up in front of ‘Mistral Blue.’

As he hooked up his bike across the street in front of a fish-center, looking over at the large discount store around the corner with its cheesy golden letters. As he looked back to Yumichika, he froze, seeing the horrified look on his face. He’d probably looked somewhat similarly at Feria when they’d parked in front of it, but he’d at least tried to subdue it. Yumichika was openly agog.

Yumichika’s mouth was ajar and he was obviously speechless. Ikkaku shrugged one shoulder, nudging him. “Oi, c’mon, I know it looks shady, but-”

“It’s a train car,” Yumichika said dully, sounding like he didn’t believe his eyes. “It’s actually a train car. Why would- I mean why would-”

“Let’s go in, Yumichika,” Ikkaku urged. “C’mon, it’s really cool. They play classic rock shit like ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ and ‘Living on a Prayer’. It’s a lotta’ fun.”

“It’s pronounced ‘Bohemian Rhapsody,’” Yumichika repeated back. He just kept staring at the outside of the club, sizing it up.

“Sorry I didn’t do well in English class, smarty-pants.” Ikkaku nudged him again, hesitantly taking Yumichika’s limp arm to try to lead him inside, but Yumichika didn’t move and Ikkaku didn’t want to _drag_ him. Ikkaku let go for a second and then tried touching him again, wary that once Yumichika broke out of his daze, he’d snap and flounce off in a huff. “Hey, we went in Feria, and that place was _totally_ out of my league. Can’t you give this a shot? I know you’re probably used to nicer, but… Well, I’m not made a' money, you see.”

That seemed to perforate Yumichika’s trance, because he blinked and gave him an apologetic look, seeming to regret his rude staring. “No, it’s not that.”

“Well then c’mon,” Ikkaku said eagerly with a growing smile. “I can show you a good time.”

Yumichika made a very uncomfortable noise that bordered on a whine, like he was about to give in but was _very_ reluctant to do so. “Well… I’m not sure,” he declined in that very indirect way of saying no without actually saying no.  

"Aww, c'mon..."

“Ahh, maybe I should head home. It’s getting late,” Yumichika avoided, tapping his foot and looking at his wrist for a watch that was actually on the other hand, to his embarrassment.

Ikkaku heard the message loud and clear that Yumichika didn’t want to be taken in there, and he didn’t get why Yumichika wouldn’t just come out and say it. Was he trying to spare his feelings, or just avoid confrontation? Now that was just ridiculous – he knew enough about Yumichika to know that he wasn’t the type to spare feelings, especially those of men who were after him, if what he’d been led to believe was true.

And if he was avoiding confrontation, well, Ikkaku _hated_ when people beat around the bush like that – he wasn’t playing these ambiguous answer games. He was gonna’ get an answer out of this brat if he had to pull teeth, if he had to rail him _all night_.

Now he hadn’t been raised to believe that no meant try harder, but Yumichika wasn’t _giving_ him a no, was he, and Ikkaku sure as hell wasn’t going to let their relationship start with Yumichika being hesitant to tell him the truth of what he thought. That being said, he was going to keep pushing until Yumichika came out and said ‘no, fuck off.’

“The night’s still young,” Ikkaku countered. “Let’s go in for awhile. Half an hour.”

“I don’t think so,” Yumichika said, much more firmly, but it still wasn’t a direct rejection.

“Why not?” he pressed bluntly. “You let me take you all the way here, but now you want to leave? Why?”

“Because I’m ready to go home now. I’m tired,” Yumichika replied much more softly, looking him the eye with a gentle expression that pretty much melted him into his boots.

No, no, strength!

Remaining steadfast for the most part, Ikkaku smiled goofily and begged, “Aw c’mon, Yumichika-san, don’t go yet.” When it didn’t sway Yumichika, he switched to a different tactic at lightning speed. Ikkaku put on a cocky grin and needled smugly, “You don’t have to be scared.”

That was the magic ticket it seemed, because Yumichika puffed up with righteous anger like a bird that had ruffled its feathers to appear more threatening.

“Scared! Oh!” Yumichika scoffed indignantly, crossing his arms and turning away from him snootily, but at least Ikkaku had his attention again. “As if I’d ever have a trait as ugly as cowardice!” He put his nose in the air and took a few steps forward as if to challenge Ikkaku to take him inside, but then after looking at the grimy entryway and the stone steps leading down past a crumbling wall, he seemed to second-guess his own courage.

Ikkaku didn’t want to fuck up any worse, having by now realized that this was _not_ an okay first-date destination in Yumichika’s book, but still, he wanted to salvage their evening. He was sure Yumichika would have fun if he would just go inside.

“Look, if we go in an’ after ten minutes ya’ don’t like it, I'll take you straight home,” Ikkaku offered. “I won’t make you stay if you don’t want to.” Yumichika still seemed rather standoffish.

“Yumichika-san, hey,” he said seriously then, touching Yumichika’s wrist to try to make him look at him. He’d never been one to think tipping someone’s chin up was romantic.

Success – Yumichika flicked his eyes up towards him. Satisfied that he was listening, Ikkaku told him with a hint of a smirk, "Don't get scared. You'll be safe. ‘Cause you’re with me, aren’t you?” He clapped Yumichika’s shoulder once. “I didn’t mean ta’ fuck this up. I can tell now that this isn’t your type’a’ place, but do you think you can give it a chance?”

Yumichika seemed to consider it for a moment, wiggling his feet and clenching his hands somewhat nervously. Finally he agreed rather cautiously and let Ikkaku lead him past a blue vending machine into the tiny club. Yumichika’s eyes stared unblinkingly at all the gang symbols and stickers plastered on pretty much every inch of the walls. There were neon signs and old street artifacts hung up as decorations, and it was dimly lit. While Ikkaku was used to gritty inner-city scenes like this, Yumichika was obviously completely spooked.

He had seized Ikkaku’s hand by then and was pretty much crushing it with his grip, his eyes darting around. His face was blank, but it was obvious he was skittish and seemed ready to bolt for safety. Ikkaku looked at him with concern. He was bound tighter than a spring. Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea. . .

“Hey, just relax,” Ikkaku said into his ear so that no one else would have to hear. “The people in here are really nice. It only _looks_ spooky. Plus ya' got me.”

Yumichika just pressed his lips together and stayed very close to him, seeming less scared and more awkward at this point, like he didn’t know what to do with himself. “This is _not_ a club,” he hissed. “This is a bar.”

“Even better! You said you didn’t even like clubs that much.” Ikkaku waved a hand, leading him further inside and waving to the bartender. “Look, just try an’ relax and calm down, and you’ll have a good time. What, you've never been in a bar before?”

"Oh stop already. As if." 

"Well there ya' go. Untwist."  

Yumichika let out a contemptuous breath slowly, but did manage to unstiffen. “Okay.” Ikkaku sat down at the countertop and bullied an employee who was on break into giving Yumichika his seat. He smacked the bar a couple times for service and ordered liquor for them to share.

Yumichika quietly sat there next to him, scootching closer a few inches, eyes flicking to the other patrons, who were all minding their own business and chatting, having a good time. He kept his hands clasped in his lap under the counter and didn’t let his back touch the chair, but rather than being scared, he now seemed to be trying to adjust to the atmosphere more than anything. He looked like someone who’d taken a bite of foreign food that they weren’t sure if they liked or disliked yet.

“See, isn’t this fun?” Ikkaku said hopefully, nudging him. “Oi, just relax.”

Yumichika did, and immediately sipped from the drink put in front of them. ‘Enter Sandman’ was playing overhead and Ikkaku sang along to the lyrics badly, along with pretty much everyone else in there.

Yumichika did end up having a good time; his good mood could’ve been attributed to the fact that a man complimented his eye feathers after a little while. That, or the fact that Ikkaku took that as a direct challenge and even _asked_ the guy if by that he meant that he wanted to throw down and fight for Yumichika’s hand.

Of course, the wimp just backed right off and said he didn’t mean anything by it, but whatever, Ikkaku wasn’t gonna’ cry about it.

“Ah, see, he didn’t like ya’ well enough ta’ fight for you, huh. You’d better stick with me, heh’, I ain’t no small fry. If I wanna’ say you’re pretty, I’ll _do_ it an’ I’ll back it up. Puh’, what a peon that guy was,” he muttered, then turning his attention back to his date. “Haaaa, no luck for me, I guess. I’d a’ liked ta’ hit him.”

“Heavens, do you pick fights a lot?” Yumichika asked lowly, leaning towards him to ask.

“Eh, I used to, but I’ve gotten past it mostly. Now it’s only for somethin’ I really care about,” he muttered, nudging Yumichika a little.

“Is that supposed to make me feel honored or something?” Yumichika said skeptically after a moment of furrowing his eyebrows.

“What, don’t you wanna’ guy who can fight for you?” Ikkaku asked in confusion. Yumichika furrowed his brow even more, tapping a perfectly manicured nail against his mouth.

“Hmm,” he mused, “I think I’d rather have a man who got really turned on from watching me fight my own battles.” Ikkaku shut up immediately, facing forward. Yumichika laughed a little bit, pinching his arm.

“But yes, I’d rather you care whether or not someone was trying to steal me away.” Ikkaku relaxed a little bit. “Although, that makes me wonder why on earth you didn’t hit Shuuhei in the face when he did what he did,” Yumichika noted with mild confusion, like it hadn’t occurred to him until then. Ikkaku didn’t say a goddamn word, because he sort of _had_ hit Hisagi in the face. . . Like, a _lot of times._

“Why is that?” Yumichika prompted when Ikkaku sat in suddenly stoic silence. “Since you’re so keen on fighting? He deliberately slighted you right in front of me, why didn’t you do anything to him?”

“I wasn’t gonna’ do it with you there. That woulda’ put ya’ in the middle, and that’s shitty,” Ikkaku replied casually, trying not to get too invested in this topic, hoping Yumichika would stray from it soon.

“If you simply wished to avoid an ugly display, why not after, then?” Yumichika pressed, seeming interested.

“I ain’t seen him since it happened.”

Honestly, now that Ikkaku thought about it, he knew that Yumichika had seen Hisagi since he’d bashed in his face. That confidential info from Renji had told him that Hisagi and Yumichika had been hanging out, maybe doing a bit of casual dating, maybe a one or two-night stand. From that, Ikkaku could infer that Yumichika had seen Hisagi’s injuries. Somehow though, Yumichika wasn’t putting it together that it had been _Ikkaku_ that had caused those injuries, and he’d like to keep it that way – perhaps Hisagi had lied about their cause. Yumichika was smart, and he was sure to figure it out sooner or later.

“Mm,” Yumichika mused, looking thoughtful. “He did really set you aside, didn’t he? After you put forth so much effort too. . . You came just to see me, trusting him to be your wingman, I’m assuming, and he made you the third wheel. What a horrible thing to do to a friend.”

“Yeah, I dunno’ what’s up with him,” Ikkaku grumped, scowling slightly. “I mean, he’s shitty and what he _did_ was real shitty, but there’s no point in me holdin’ a grudge if what he did didn’t wreck my chances with you. I still got you on a date even though he pulled that crap. It was a shitty thing to do, but I’m not so pissed anymore, just disappointed. You get it, right?” Yumichika nodded. “Besides, I thought if I brained him in front of you, it would really put you off, so… I just-”

“Put your tail between your legs?” Yumichika finished with a raised eyebrow, looking as put off as Ikkaku had expected.

“I _was_ kind of a slob for a week. That messed me up, a’right? I liked you a lot and I thought it was over.”

“Giving up so easily, ‘feh!” Yumichika criticized, poking his nose in the air. “What a hideously ugly show of weakness.”

“Well what kinda’ tool would just try to cut in after that?” Ikkaku pressed indignantly. “I felt fucking pathetic! Besides… You looked pretty happy to see him, I wasn’t gonna’ be a jerk an’ ruin that just ‘cause I was bitter,” he muttered, looking away. “Were you two… like… y’know…” Ikkaku tried to indicate sex without actually saying it, not wanting to embarrass Yumichika if he’d like to be discreet about his sexual exploits, and also not wanting to have to verbalize Hisagi and Yumichika’s supposed rendezvous.

That being said, he made two fists and knocked them against each other.

“What?” Yumichika asked in confusion. “What is that?”

“Y’know,” Ikkaku said again, holding up a pinkie. Yumichika just stared at him, bewildered. “You know, c’mon, _you know!”_ Yumichika shrugged demurely. Disgruntled and red-faced, Ikkaku leaned forward with a sigh.

_“Having sex_ ,” Ikkaku finally hissed, because damnit, although it wouldn’t change his opinion of Yumichika, he still wanted to know if Hisagi really had pulled one over on him that badly. “Did you guys used to have sex?” Recognition flashed over Yumichika’s face.

“What? _No,”_ Yumichika said with a snorty little laugh. He practically fell over on the bar-counter from giggling, letting his head rest there for a minute, shoulders shaking with laughter.

“Oi, be serious,” Ikkaku growled. “Oi!” He nudged him, grabbing him and carefully shaking him once when he didn’t stop.

“Sorry, that’s just- Pffft,” Yumichika dissolved into laughter again, putting his hands over his mouth, since his laugh was very ‘unattractive’ as laughs go. Ikkaku thought it was the cutest fuckin’ thing he’d ever heard, but all the same, he was offended. “Me and- and _him?_ ”

“C’mon, I’ve been stressin’ about this for days! Don’t laugh!” Ikkaku snapped, banging a fist on the table, rattling the drinks of their neighbors, but damnit, he didn’t care – he didn’t like to be laughed at!

“I’m sorry, it’s just a little ridiculous to me,” Yumichika said, finally calming down. “Oh gracious.” He gave one final snicker, letting his head roll back on his shoulders for a moment. “I’d love to see the look on his face if he’d heard that.”

“How do you two know each other? _‘Yumi’,_ he called you, like you know each other so well!” Ikkaku spat jealously. “He’s never mentioned you before… When I wanted to know about Fuwat, Hisagi an’ my buddy Renji both said they’d been there, but only Renji mentioned knowin’ you,” Ikkaku asserted, being openly nosy.

A shit-eating grin spread across Yumichika’s face as he fluttered his eyelashes and leaned onto one elbow, getting right in Ikkaku’s personal space. Ikkaku could smell Yumichika’s rum-sweet breath from that far away. He swallowed, leaning back slightly, cowed.

“You’ve been talking about me to your friends?” Yumichika asked leadingly, grinning like mad.

“Shut up! I told ya’ I liked ya’, didn’t I?” Ikkaku snapped, embarrassed. “A’ _course_ I talked about ya’! I had ta’ get their shit-help, so I _had_ to!” He took a swig of their drink and slammed it back down, the foam slipping over the sides. “Just answer the question. Hisagi’s never mentioned you.”

Instead of pointing out that that was _not_ a question, Yumichika just flippantly sighed. “Oh no, he wouldn’t have. He never liked me much, or at least he won’t admit to it. We were roommates back in junior college for a short time and when he realized I was gay, he changed rooms. I made it my mission after that to make him uncomfortable as punishment. He did warm up to me eventually, but then he went to study abroad after a while,” Yumichika rambled. “But anyways, neither of us made an effort to stay in touch after that, so I was surprised to see him. He’s gotten so handsome,” he noted.

Ikkaku shrugged mildly, still a little bitter about everything that had happened. He’d gotten over it, but he still didn’t like to hear compliments directed towards that jerk. “I dunno’. That tattoo’s kind of…”

“Well, besides that. It doesn’t mean the sex act to him, you know.”

“What? I’m talking about the fact that he got a tattoo on his _face_ when he was modeling it off a guy who got it on his _chest._ I mean, _why?”_

“He pulls it off well enough.”

“Anyways,” Ikkaku said uncomfortably, trying to change the subject. “He’s been a real asshole lately, so whatever.”

“Whatever indeed. He was acting _quite_ unattractive when we caught up the other night with some friends. He was hideously cruel to Renji-kun. I haven’t seen him since then, because that was just uncalled for,” Yumichika muttered, a clear care and protectiveness for Renji in his voice. Then he noted, “I actually expected to see you there.”

“No,” Ikkaku said flatly. He wasn’t one for large social gatherings, especially without booze. He might’ve gone to that one, actually, since there had been alcohol, but that had been during the week that he’d been moping around. He was quite embarrassed about that in retrospect, actually.

“Anyways, feh’, he’s not my type. Rather fun to tease, but not mature enough for my tastes.” That pleased Ikkaku much more than it should have.

“Tell me about it. What kinda’ dog steals somethin’ it don’t want just ta’ dangle it over someone else’s nose? . . . He made a fuckin’ fool outta’ me,” Ikkaku grumbled, drumming his hands on the table.

“Well, no harm done. You got over it and came to find me anyway, so you get an A for effort,” Yumichika replied with a smile, running his finger on the edge of their glass, then licking a bead of alcohol off his fingertip. Ikkaku just looked at him for a minute, shrugging.

“It was worth it. You’re pretty cool,” Ikkaku said with a crooked grin. “You’re kind of a brat, but you can work on it.”

“Oh!” Yumichika pretty much kicked his stool out from under him. “You can work on your manners, since we’re being honest with each other!” Ikkaku just cackled wildly, throwing an arm around Yumichika’s shoulder, pleased with the little ‘oof’ sound the other made at the added weight. Ikkaku thought he actually enjoyed holding Yumichika or touching him.

“You ready to go home?” Ikkaku asked then, showing concern. “It’s twelve thirty, so…”

“Yes,” Yumichika then noted, checking his watch with a flutter of his colored eyelashes. Ikkaku still liked watching them, since they reminded him of butterfly wings batting. “I do have to be at work early tomorrow. I’m sure you heard,” he said with an eyeroll, and Ikkaku remembered his demanding boss.

“Alright, I’ll drop you off,” he offered, paying for their drink as Yumichika straightened himself out and stood up, tossing his hair.

As they left the bar together, Yumichika informed him, “I live in an apartment in Shinjuku.” Ikkaku mulled that over in his head, puffing his cheeks out and leaning from side to side. He could pay for Yumichika’s taxi ride, or drive him home and get back at… what time would it be by then?

“That’s about a twenty minute drive from here,” Yumichika told him when he was quiet for too long. Ikkaku shrugged a shoulder.

“I’ll drop you off there,” he said with a grin. Yumichika seemed satisfied with that answer, nodding as if to say _‘yeah_ , you will.’ Ikkaku handed him the helmet and unchained his bike again.

Once they left the city limits of Roppongi, Yumichika’s grip on his back was a lot looser, since he’d become more used to riding on his motorcycle. Ikkaku gunned the speed and was passing people, trying to freak Yumichika out or give him a thrill, but Yumichika was fine by all accounts, seeming to have taken his word for it earlier when he’d said that he’d never do anything to put him in true danger.

As if to mock that thought, all of a sudden, the bike shuddered beneath him and made a sound. His headlight turned off for some reason, and Ikkaku flicked the switch a couple times in confusion. Yumichika’s head turned towards him, but Ikkaku remained calm, not wanting to scare him. It took him a moment to realize that his bike had turned off completely. Had he stalled it? He hadn’t even been shifting gears right then.

As he shifted back down to base-gear and turned the ignition again to turn it back on, the bike made the most horrible sputtering revv he’d ever heard. Ikkaku pursed his lips and let it rest, then tried to turn the key again, but to no avail.

Alright, alright, no need to panic, just some more bad luck. Yumichika had the helmet on, they were perfectly fine, no need to get all upset lookin’ and freak Yumichika out.

He put on his turn-signal and cruised them over to the side of the road, braking gently and letting his feet skim the pavement to bring them to a slow stop.

“What’s the matter?” Yumichika asked, voice muffled nut clearly concerned. He drew back from Ikkaku somewhat defensively.

“Well… there’s a chance that the transmission is shot,” Ikkaku explained, somewhat sheepish.

“What?!” Yumichika’s tense shoulders dropped straight down.

“Uh, well, that’s the gearbox that is pretty much the power source of the-”

“Ikkaku-san, no-” Yumichika said, shaking his head, indicating that he didn’t care about what a transmission was and that he’d been saying ‘what’ rhetorically. “We broke down?”

“Well yeah, that’s what happens when you drive a bike that’s still… supposed to be in the… shop,” Ikkaku trailed off in embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck. Yumichika popped the helmet off his head so that Ikkaku could fully appreciate the deadpan stare he was giving him, although there was a hint of amusement there.

“… What?”

Yumichika just shook his head with a combination of a groan and a laugh. “Let’s hail a cab.” He raised his eyebrows. “And don’t you try anything _funny_ , now.”

“Okay,” Ikkaku replied, merely surprised that Yumichika was on board just like that. While Ikkaku called to get his bike towed, they waited near it and looked at the not-stars and made fun of each other. They actually really hit it off, waiting there in the night on the side of the road.

By the time Ikkaku’s bike got picked up and they walked towards the main road to hail a cab, there weren’t many taxis out, and Yumichika had to hop on Ikkaku’s shoulders and wave his arms to get the attention of one.

When the cab pulled up to the curb, Ikkaku let Yumichika down and stepped back awkwardly. When would he see him again? Was Yumichika going to call him? Wait, how could he do that, he didn’t have his number… How would they meet again? Would Ikkaku have to come visit him at work _again?_

Ugh, no way would Yumichika want to see him. He was a sucky excuse for a man and this date had been horrible. I mean, _Ikkaku_ had had fun, but… Yumichika, a classy guy like him, he’d probably been suffering through this entire night, huh? This had probably been for a bet or as a charity case. Ikkaku should just say goodnight and go collapse in his bed and wallow in his loserdom.

Yumichika turned towards him with a smile. “I had a great time tonight,” he said, and the words seemed unreal.

“Yeah, me too,” Ikkaku stuttered out dazedly, staring at Yumichika like he’d seen a ghost. Yumichika had really had a good time? Even though he’d taken him to a creepy bar and his motorbike had broken down past midnight? No way.

Yumichika looked at him a little strangely, as if his weirdness was making him feel awkward too. He shook his head minutely as if to clear it and freshened his smile. “I’d like to see you again.”

Ikkaku’s eyes bugged out and a muscle in his cheek tightened and twitched. His brain completely shut down on a 404 error, rendering him incapable of speech. As he stood there and gaped, the door to the cab popped open to let Yumichika in, but before leaving, Yumichika gave him a receipt with his phone number on it and leaned in towards him.

It took Ikkaku a moment to realize that Yumichika had kissed him on the cheek.

“See you soon. Call me,” Yumichika said, getting in the cab, the door shutting behind him. The car drove off after a moment, leaving Ikkaku still standing there staring, one hand rising to hover over his face, as if he wanted to feel the warmth of Yumichika’s lips but was also afraid that if he touched the spot, he would wipe off the kiss. Had he really been kissed? Had Yumichika actually _kissed_ him _?_

He just stared dazedly for another moment before his reaction time finally caught up. He took a breath and turned around in a haze, a small smile spreading on his cheeks.

Yumichika had said that he wanted to see him again, and… that he’d had fun. He’d liked Ikkaku; he’d actually liked him and wanted to go on another date. He couldn’t believe it. He wasn’t so down on his luck after all. The night had been a success.

. . . Yumichika – had – _kissed – him._

Ikkaku grinned outright, fist-pumping and then jumping in the air. “WOOOOH!”


	15. Chapter 15

The next morning at work, Ikkaku didn’t realize that Renji had been trying to engage in conversation with him for _hours_ until Renji gave up and physically shook him by the shoulders. He’d been too busy working and humming like Renji had been not three weeks prior. He felt _great._ He’d been fucking pumped all morning and had actually almost punched a hole in the wall while he was getting ready, because he was just that psyched.

“Hey, _hey!_ Why the _fuck_ are you smilin’ like that? It’s fuckin’ creepy,” Renji muttered, letting go of him and slinking back to his own work station, brows furrowed in suspicion. Ikkaku just shrugged and drifted back to the task at hand, tightening a bolt further than necessary and humming random shit.  
  


‘Tsuiteru- _ze!_ Tsuite aru- _zo!_ Tsui-tsui- _tsuiiite!_ Rakki-rakki-rakki~ Raku-raku, ra-kkiii~♪’  
  


He had totally just freaked himself out before. Seriously, he’d gotten so scared of rejection that he’d been pathetic and weird for no reason. Yumichika had liked him! Ikkaku had reached his goal, and holy shit, he’d actually gotten a second date too. His life fucking _ruled._  
  


_‘I’m the luckiest man in To-o-kyo~ Luck, luck, lucky~!’_   
  


  “Oi.”  
  


He’d gotten a motherfucking _kiss._ Yumichika had _kissed_ him. Not only that either. Yumichika had actually said yes to a date with him after how stupid he’d looked coming into his work at closing time and directly insulting his boss and everything. Not only _that either,_ but they'd been so easy in each other's company all night. Ikkaku had hardly stuttered or fucked up or anything! _Not only that either –_ Yumichika wanted to go on a second date! Yumichika had really liked him!

Yumichika had even let him take him on his motorcycle, and Ikkaku could understand that that would’ve scared off a lot of people.  
  


 _“Oi.”_  
  


What concerned Ikkaku was when he was going to hear from Yumichika again. By the time he’d gotten home last night, he’d been so revved up that it had taken him ages to get to sleep, and even after the late night, he’d still woken up feeling fresh. He wanted to see Yumichika again and talk to him already; he’d put Yumichika’s number in his phone and stared at it for who knows how long, memorizing the number and hoping Yumichika would call.

But the thing was, Yumichika had said to call _him,_ so that probably meant he was supposed to make the first move. Was it too soon to call him the day after their first date? Or was that just some ridiculous rule that nobody listened to? Maybe Ikkaku needed some outside advice… Well, maybe not, because he already knew how it had worked out the _last_ time he’d asked for advice about his love life.

He probably shouldn’t call him right now anyways. Yumichika was probably at work. Ikkaku wondered how whatever he’d needed to take care of for his boss had gone. It had sounded serious, what with all the talk of kicking people in the head.  
  


    “Fuckin’ _oi,_ Ikkaku! I know you can hear me! Listen! You’re not listenin’ ta’ me! _Listen!_ Hey, _hey!"_  
  


Ikkaku looked up to see a very disgruntled Renji giving him the most vicious stink-eye he’d ever seen. Shit, he looked horrible, how had he not noticed that until now? He had these big-ass dark rings under his eyes, not to mention his hair was messier than usual. What the fuck was eating _him?_

“What?” Ikkaku finally responded blandly.

“It’s lunch time. Stop workin’ for a minute – you need ta’ eat,” Renji insisted sternly, crossing his arms. Ikkaku rolled his eyes.

“I’m fine.” He was better than fine. He was super.

“I can see your arms shaking from here! You need to eat something, man!”

“My breakfast was huge, just lay off,” Ikkaku replied, turning back to his work. He felt great. He felt one hundred percent. Renji was fucking crazy and didn’t know what he was talking about.

“You probably burned it off already what with how you’re jitterin’ and bangin’ on stuff!Look, listen’a’ me and chill out already, okay? Just chill out an’ eat for a minute!”

“Yer’ not tha’ boss a’ me.” Because that was real mature and proved that he was an adult man that could take care of himself.

Renji had to actually turn Ikkaku’s work-light off to force him to wheel himself out from under the car and come eat.

“Fine, fine. Whattya’ got?”

“Gyoza. We can put ‘em in the microwave,” Renji replied, holding up his lunch-container. “I’ll share if you sit the fuck still.”

“Fuckin’ love you.” Ikkaku pulled up a chair and sat in it backwards, taking his phone out while Renji fiddled with the microwave and tried putting the dumplings on a plate. “Oi, put a wet towel over it before you nuke it.”

Renji grunted in reply and dug around the shop for a semi-clean roll of paper towels and then a water bottle to soak one with, since the water from the utility sink wasn’t quite fit for human consumption.

“You listenin’ now?” Renji ventured cautiously.

“Mhm.”

“How was Izuru then when you checked him? Okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine now,” Ikkaku replied absently; Renji made a surprised noise that seemed satisfactory. Ikkaku just tapped his foot mindlessly as he checked his new messages, having been able to feel that Rangiku was texting him throughout the day, probably grilling him about how his date with Yumichika had gone. Sure enough, each text was increasingly more excited and threatening. Ikkaku smirked a little bit.  
  
  


From: 斑目 一角  
To: らんぎく

                    Sorry, I’m at work. Can’t talk.

From: 松本 乱菊  
To: 一角

I know you’re on break, dummy. I want details.  
  


Shoot. Ikkaku furrowed his brow and scowled. Damn smart woman; she’d totally remembered that he had an hour lunch break.

He knew damn well that she was just digging for gossip. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. She was pretty nice actually and probably just wanted to know because she’d seen him fail successively up until now, and wanted to see how things had turned out. Even so...

 

From: 斑目 一角  
To: らんぎく

             I’m not stupid! You probably already asked Yumichika the same thing!

From: 松本 乱菊  
To: 一角

So what if I did?! Spill it!

  
At that point Ikkaku decided he actually _did_ want to spill it, because, fuck, he was pretty damn proud of himself. He had a right to gloat a little bit. It was bad luck to keep secrets, besides.  
  


From: 斑目 一角  
To: らんぎく

          Yumichika gave me his number. He wants to see me again!  
  


The reply came almost immediately, as it always did, since Rangiku typed really fast on her phone somehow. Ikkaku didn’t see how, since his own phone was a piece of junk, but then again, hers had a touch-screen. At any rate, this reply came significantly faster than her other replies, which was saying something. He felt like he’d barely pressed send before he had to type another answer.

From: 松本 乱菊  
To: 一角

Woo! Great! That’s great!

From: 斑目 一角  
To: らんぎく

     Yeah, I know. I’m pretty stoked. I got really lucky last night!

From: 松本 乱菊  
To: 一角

WHAT, YOU TWO SLEPT TOGETHER? He didn’t tell me that part!

From: 斑目 一角  
To: らんぎく

     What? No. 

From: 斑目 一角  
To: らんぎく

     Hey, is it too soon to text him, do you think?

From: 松本 乱菊  
To: 一角

No way! Go for it!

 

From: 松本 乱菊  
To: 一角

He told me great things about you. He’ll totally wanna’ talk to you.

  
Ikkaku’s fingers stalled as he read that, just mindlessly rubbing the buttons as he smiled stupidly, brow furrowing as he glanced around. Yumichika had talked about him? And he hadn’t said that their date had been completely _horrible?_  
  


From: 斑目 一角  
To: らんぎく

             What did he say?  
  


Waiting for Rangiku to reply was the most agonizing sixty seconds of Ikkaku’s entire life.

  
From: 松本 乱菊  
To: 一角

That you’re a gentleman but you have horrible manners. And that you’re sweet and gorgeous. Stuff like that. He didn’t want to talk about the date much, but he said /you/ were great.

  
Ikkaku sat back in his chair a little bit and rubbed his mouth, actually having to set his phone down in his lap for a minute before texting back. He felt so warm suddenly. 

 

From: 斑目 一角  
To: らんぎく

                  Shit. Wow.

From: 松本 乱菊  
To: 一角

How did you think of him? Did you like him?

  
Ikkaku took a moment to reply to her, biting the inside of his cheek viciously to try to stop smiling. His palm twinged every time he used his thumb to type, irritating his wound, but he didn’t fucking care.

 

From: 斑目 一角  
To: らんぎく

                 Yeah. He’s amazing.

 

Ikkaku stared at the screen a little while before sending the message. Half of him hoped that Rangiku told Yumichika what he’d said. Yumichika deserved to know that, but at the same time, the little shit would probably get cocky over it, wouldn’t he.

  
From: 松本 乱菊  
To: 一角

Oh shoot, Yumichika’s going on his lunch-hour! Text him now, Ikkaku!

  
Ikkaku stared at Rangiku’s text for a moment before he practically dropped his phone in his hurry to open a new conversation and quickly type out a text to Yumichika. He back-checked it several times before sending it, then immediately cursed himself for being too hasty.  
  


From: 斑目 一角  
To: 弓親

                    Hey, it’s me.  
  


From: 斑目 一角  
To: らんぎく

                    SHIT. I TEXTED HIM. WHAT DO I DO?  
  


From: 松本 乱菊  
To: 一角

Uh, wait till he replies?       
  


From: 松本 乱菊  
To: 一角

Oh, I can see him taking his phone out, he’s replying!

  
Ikkaku actually held his breath and stared at his phone for a good thirty seconds before he got an answer. His heart practically pounded out of his chest as he opened the message.  
  


From: 綾瀬川 弓親  
To: 3-8942-1184

                    Who is this?  
  


From: 松本 乱菊  
To: 一角

Holy shit, what did you say? He barely even looked at it! He just put his phone back in his pocket!

  
Fuck, Ikkaku’s fingers were sweating. Okay, right, Yumichika didn’t know what _his_ number was. No big deal.

 

From: 斑目 一角  
To: 弓親

                    Sorry! It’s Ikkaku. From last night.

 

He felt the need to add the ‘from last night’ part even though it sounded kind of stupid, as if there could’ve been other Ikkakus that Yumichika was seeing and the only way Yumichika could distinguish them was which day they’d been together on. At any rate, Yumichika was known for forgetting who Ikkaku was, and Ikkaku wasn’t feeling so confident all of a sudden, even though he’d thought they’d had a pretty good time last night, so he tacked that little bit onto the end, his insecurity showing through.

Ikkaku let out a tense stressed breath. It was a good thing he was already bald, or he might’ve started losing hair over this. Why was this so hard, huh? If he had it his way, he’d just _call_ Yumichika, but he didn’t want to get too pushy.

He pretty much fell out of his chair in his hurry to open Yumichika’s reply, sagging with relief. The nervousness pretty much poured off of him then as Yumichika sent another message right after the first one.  
  


From: 綾瀬川 弓親  
To: 3-8942-1184

                 Oh! I didn’t recognize the number, sorry.

From: 綾瀬川 弓親  
To: 3-8942-1184

                 I just wanted to say I had a really nice time last night, Ikkaku. Thank you for taking me out.  
  


  
Ikkaku fucking hid his face in his hands, making a small whining noise. “Who are you talking to?” Renji asked sharply all of a sudden, his tone accusatory.

It probably was weird, since Ikkaku wasn’t big on texting, which was a notorious fact amongst their group of friends. You might as well hand-write Ikkaku a letter with how quick he was to reply to your messages.  
  


From: 斑目 一角  
To: 弓親

                 Aw pssh. No big deal. I had fun too. You’re pretty cool.

From: 綾瀬川 弓親  
To: 一角-さん

You’re lucky you’re so cute. I didn’t get enough beauty rest since you kept me out so late.

  
Yeah, he was lucky! A permanent smile was now stuck on Ikkaku’s face as he typed something hugely sappy. Yumichika had set him up, so hell if he wasn’t going to take the dive.  
  


From: 斑目 一角  
To: 弓親

          If anyone doesn’t need any beauty sleep, it’s you. You could stay awake forever!

  
There was a somewhat lengthy pause before he received a message back to that one, almost a long enough pause to make him start fretting over what he’d said.

 

From: 綾瀬川 弓親  
To: 一角-さん

Your flirting could use some work.

From: 斑目 一角  
To: 弓親

                That wasn’t flirting, it was honesty!!  
  


From: 松本 乱菊  
To: 一角

HE’S SMILING, WHAT DID YOU SAY? DON’T KEEP ME IN THE DARK, IKKAKU.

  
  
Ikkaku grinned in triumph, calming down considerably. Renji kicked his chair hard enough to knock him onto the floor. _“HEY!”  
_

“Oi, what the hell, man?!”

“Quit fucking ignoring me!” Renji shouted back. “Who are you talking to?!”  
  
“None of your fuckin’-” Ikkaku paused and then sat back up, grinning again and getting in Renji’s face, realizing that he wasn’t pissed and would probably never be pissed about anything ever again because –

“It’s Yumichika,” he said, and Renji went to say something but did an actual double-take. Ikkaku cut him off right there. _“Dude,”_ he stressed, “We went on a date last night.”

Renji literally _gasped_ and looked up to him with wide eyes and a slack-jaw. “For real?”

“Yeah,” Ikkaku said smugly, crossing his arms with a proud smile. Yep, he was pretty damn pleased with himself. He felt his phone buzz twice and glanced down to it, opening the texts.

“Holy shit! How did it go?!” Renji asked, but Ikkaku ignored him for the moment, causing Renji to rush over and grab him, trying to peep at his phone screen.  
  


From: 綾瀬川 弓親  
To: 一角-さん

You’re horrible.

From: 綾瀬川 弓親  
To: 一角-さん

But still, you’re right. I am beautiful.

 

Ikkaku gave a shit-eating grin and looked back up to Renji, who was shaking him by both shoulders to get his attention again. “Don’t keep me in suspense!”

Ikkaku put his chair upright again and turned it around, sitting down in it and gesturing for Renji to open the microwave. Renji took a minute to realize what he meant, and then jumped into action, taking the gyoza out. They were no longer sizzling, but were still hot and steamy when they took the napkin off the top of them.

“Well, my bike broke down and I took him to Mistral Blue,” Ikkaku summed up after popping one of them in his mouth.

“Yuck,” Renji replied with disgust, curling his lip, as if to say that Ikkaku was nuts to have taken him _there._

“But he said he wanted to see me again!” Ikkaku interjected victoriously. Renji stomped his feet on the ground.

“Oh my god, great- That’s great! You go, man!” He clapped Ikkaku on the back. “I told you that you just had to go for it!”

Ikkaku was about to say something when his phone buzzed again. They both looked down at it and crowded around the screen.  
  


From: 松本 乱菊  
To: 一角

Yumichika’s pulling his hair out! What did you say to him?? UGH TELL ME.

  
“Oh shit,” Ikkaku muttered, realizing he hadn’t said _anything._ He hadn’t answered Yumichika’s last reply yet and was making the poor guy wait.

Meanwhile, Renji was talking his ear off, blown away that he really had Matsumoto Rangiku’s number – having thought he was lying before concerning that whole business with Hisagi. Ikkaku ignored him, and definitely ignored his drooling over the contact photo he’d set for Rangiku, which was a picture of them at Tengu, her arm around his shoulders, her eye winking, and her lips pursed, while he just grinned, obviously drunk.

“Ah, Senpai, you lucky dog, look at how her breasts were pressed against you!” Renji put a hand over his mouth and nose, his voice muffled, “Ohhh, wow.”

“Hey shut up, I’m tryin’a’ do somethin’,” Ikkaku replied absently, holding Renji back with one arm.  
  


From: 斑目 一角  
To: 弓親

                Don’t forget adventurous and nice too.

 

“Whooooa,” Renji hooted in his ear, “Teach _me_ that skill, Senpai!” Ikkaku just punched him half-heartedly.

From: 松本 乱菊  
To: 一角

WHAT. THE.FUCK.DIDYOU SAY HE SPAT OUT HIS COFFEE!  


Ikkaku smiled a little, pleased to know that Yumichika was just as eager to hear from him as he was in return.

 

From: 斑目 一角  
To: 弓親

                 I have to get back to work, but I’d really like to talk to you on the phone sometime, so maybe you can call me later?  
  


From: 綾瀬川 弓親  
To: 一角-さん

Definitely. I’ll talk to you soon.

  
  
Ikkaku grinned a little and let his shoulders fall lax with a sigh. Renji immediately shoved him hard enough to almost bowl him over.

“What the fuck?! Stop throwing me around!”

“I would if you’d stop fucking ignoring me when I’m talkin’a’ you! I want fucking details! Did you guys hook up? What happened last night, where did you go?!”

“Sheesh, calm down, yer’ too invested in this,” Ikkaku griped, although once he got into it, he was happy to tell Renji about his success, since Renji had been the one backing him up this whole time. Strong-and-silent-type though he was, he just couldn’t keep his mouth shut about this, as it turned out.

“Did you two have sex?” Renji asked again. “I bet you did, huh,” he prompted with a grin. Ikkaku decided maybe that he should start trying to drop hints about his... _you know_.

“Nah man, I don’t have sex,” he said, and maybe that was too direct, because Renji was silent and blank-faced, so Ikkaku coughed and then went on to say, “Not on the first date,” narrowly saving his ass from an awkward conversation.

“Oh, okay,” Renji said, perking back up. “It’s whatever, that’s cool,” he assured, grinning like crazy then. “Did you like him?” Ikkaku tried not to smile and looked away. “You really like him, huh?”

“Shut it, Kid,” Ikkaku griped, shoving him, but he was smiling.

“Don’t worry, you two’ll do it soon.”

“Hm, maybe,” Ikkaku said offhandedly, trying to change the subject. “I dunno’ about that.”

“You’re a serious guy, huh, Senpai, like me and Ichigo. You’re gonna’ wait?” Ikkaku shrugged noncommittally. “Oh, you don’t want to wait, but you think Yumichika does?” Ikkaku didn’t respond at all then, because in the past, the opposite had always been the problem and accounted for why he couldn’t keep a relationship. “No, don’t even worry, Yumichika’s hard ta’ get, but he doesn’t like to wait. You won’t have ta’ be patient long, Ikkaku, don’t even worry.”

“I’m _not._ It’s not gonna’ happen that fast, trust me, Kid. That shit takes time. It _should_ take time.”

“Ahh, it don’t need to when you’ve got the passion!” Ikkaku just grumbled, brow tugging down resignedly as he tolerated Renji’s yammering and shoulder slaps. “Nah man, just you wait,” he assured. “You just wait, and then you’ll see. You show’m the fire in yer’ blood and you’ll have Yumichika throwin’ his underwear across the room with your smooth moves – and then you’ll have him.”

“I dunno’.”

“And then he’ll never wanna’ break up with you, ‘cause a’ yer’ skill, right Senpai?” Renji said with a cheeky grin and a thumbs-up.

“I said ‘I dunno’,” Ikkaku repeated bluntly, refusing to look Renji in the eye.

Seeming to pick up on his grumpiness, Renji then cautiously said, “Don’t you think about lovin’ and leavin’ though, Senpai. I might just lose all respect for you. It’s a real honor ta’ have his attention, so you should make him really happy! If you caught Yumichika’s eye, you’ve gotta’ treat him super!”

“Yeah, I’ll be super to’m, just stop talkin’ like that,” Ikkaku grunted. “Fuckin’ annoyin’.”

“Anyway, what happened? How’d it go?” Renji asked eagerly, urging Ikkaku to brag, probably able to see how pleased Ikkaku was about the whole thing.

It was kind of embarrassing to talk about and Ikkaku considered this stuff private, but he figured it was okay to tell Renji a little bit – only because he was being so fucking supportive – so he talked about Feria and where they’d gone and that Yumichika had let him drive him around on his motorcycle.

  
    Then they’d gotten to talking about what had gone _wrong_ with his motorcycle and what needed fixing on it. Ikkaku didn’t want to hear it from Kidd that ‘he’d fucking told him so,’ but that’s what he got for not listening, right?  
  


“‘Just getting detailed,’ my butt,” Renji muttered, staring at Ikkaku’s bike thoughtfully, with one hand on his chin. “I thought it just needed maintenance.”

“Me too! Well… I wasn’t always so gentle with it, so maybe it needed more than maintenance,” he trailed off in embarrassment.

“Well, we’ve still got a little break left,” Renji said, “Let’s take a look. You said it just clunked out on you?”

“Yeah, and it wouldn’t shift back into first gear.”

“Maybe if we just replace the clutch... Lemme’ see if I can-” Renji paused as his phone rang and lit up in his pocket. “Hang on,” he muttered, working it out of his jeans and looking at it. “Oh, it’s just Ichigo. Weird.”   
  
It _was_ weird. Ichigo worked straight through his break and didn’t call Renji unless something important came up. Sometimes Renji would call him during lunch to tell him something funny or because he missed him, but outside of that was completely unheard of - which meant that something must’ve happened.  
  


Renji took the call and held his phone to his ear while Ikkaku openly eavesdropped.  
  


“Hey,” Renji greeted brightly. Someone replied, and from the way Renji’s facial expression changed to confusion, Ikkaku could tell that it was _not_ Ichigo after all. “Yes, this is he,” Renji said slowly, sounding apprehensive.

Suddenly Renji’s face went slack in horror, and Ikkaku just watched on, mildly concerned. Had someone taken Ichigo hostage and stolen his phone to demand ransom? That poor criminal!

Renji sputtered, “Wh-… But I’m not…” There was a very long pause from Renji as whoever was on the other end of the line continued on. Renji’s utter shock seemed to be eased somewhat, but he still seemed greatly distressed. Finally, he said, “Alright, I understand,” mouth drawn in a taut grim line. “Yes, yes, we’ll come today… Yes, thank you for calling.” After that, he hung up, letting out a breath and grimacing.

He then looked to Ikkaku and said, “That was Bokutou Hospital.”

Ikkaku immediately understood. Renji must’ve read half the caller ID and assumed that Ichigo had been calling from work on an office phone or something. However, Ichigo worked in _Ito_ hospital, which was very different.  
  


“So?” That name didn’t mean anything to Ikkaku anyways.  
  


“You didn’t fucking _tell me Izuru was in the hospital!”_ Renji shouted, having been calm for the first half of his sentence. “I thought you said he was fine!”  
  


“He _is_ fine.”  
  


“In the hospital is not fine! Why the fuck didn’t you _say_ anything?!”  
  


“Sheesh, sorry?” Ikkaku said, not entirely sorry. “I figured there was no point in mentioning it, since he’s fine now that he’s at the hospital probably?” 

  
To tell the truth, Ikkaku had kind of forgotten that he’d called an ambulance for Izuru ever since his date with Yumichika. True, it had only been one night, so it wasn’t like he’d forgotten for very long, but still, he felt guilty about it now. He hadn’t even really stopped to wonder how Kira was doing; god, what a shitty person he could be sometimes. Although, he wasn’t sure how much good it would do Kira for his friends to sit around worrying about him when it came down to the fact that he would either get better or he wouldn’t. No, Izuru would rather Ikkaku be stupidly happy over the date he’d just had than tear himself apart for his sake… which sort of made Ikkaku mad that Izuru was so stupidly selfless, but…  
  


“Ikkaku, how could you?! You know he’s like the first friend I made in college - you know how much he means to me and you _know_ how much it hurt me that he’s ended up like this, and you didn’t think it was important that you should at least let me know he was _in the hospital?”_ Renji raged frustratedly, the heels of his hands pressing above his ears as he glared at Ikkaku. “Aren’t _you_ worried about him? Fuck, Ikkaku, you’re seriously _heartless_ sometimes!”  
  


“Hey, the only reason I wasn’t worried was because I knew he was perfectly safe! Not because I don’t _care!_ ” Ikkaku insisted rather defensively, feeling stupid for not having mentioned it now. “I didn’t _need_ ta’ worry!”

“Ugh,” Renji groaned at Ikkaku’s remorseless expression. “Whatever. We’ve gotta’ go get him.”

“What? Why?” Ikkaku asked harshly, brow pinching, arms crossing.

“Be- _cause,”_ Renji stressed, chest heaving as he tried to get Ikkaku to see what he was so worked up about. “He needs to be taken home!”

“Why _us_ ? Why did they call _us?_ ” Ikkaku clarified.

He knew for a fucking fact that Hisagi was Kira’s emergency contact. He's known that ever since he’d taken Kira to the E.R. when he’d broken his arm in that dune-buggy. Hisagi had torn in all pale and sweaty, still in his business-casual attire, having come straight from school. Kira had been there with his arm in a sling, sitting on a hospital bed with Ikkaku hanging out in his room with him, and he’d yelped in pain as Hisagi had dived on him, hugged him like crazy, and checked over all his injuries, even the tiniest of scrapes on his face… Then when he’d seen that he was okay and scolded him an appropriate amount, Hisagi had kissed him with such relief that Ikkaku had had to fucking leave the room. It was too loving; disgusting, but still reassuring somehow, like watching your parents kiss.

Renji snapped him out of his memories by explaining, “Hisagi-senpai is Izuru’s primary emergency contact, but he wouldn’t go pick him up when they called, so they called the secondary contacts. Izuru put me down at some point, and you too.” Ikkaku just stared at him blankly for a moment more, and Renji felt obligated to repeat the important part. “We have to, Ikkaku. They tried. Hisagi won’t go get Kira.”  
  


Like an electric shock, Ikkaku twitched, his jaw feeling like it had been wired shut for a moment.  
  


   “That _bastard!”_  
  


He whipped around, hands on his head as he exhaled, trying to cool down. He paced wildly, seeing red, just about an _inch_ from falling to his knees and _screaming,_  fists embedded against the top of his skull.

Oh, he could- He could fucking _hit_ something! He’d break Hisagi’s face! It was one thing to be all bitter and shit and disappear in a fit of pique, but to not pick up his ailing lover from the hospital just because- because he was throwing a fucking _tantrum?_ Kira didn’t deserve that shit! Kira had gone through _enough!_ And now Hisagi was just gonna- fuck, just gonna’ treat him like this? Like garbage? Like he wasn’t even worth a phone call to see if he was okay?

Maybe Hisagi could get away with treating _Ikkaku_ that way, but Izuru, _Izuru_ was a fucking precious angel who was sick and depressed and lonely. Izuru didn't deserve that right now. Izuru was vulnerable enough as it was, already heartbroken and struggling to recover, and now Hisagi was going to just keep snubbing him? Like all those years they’d spent together meant nothing to him? Like _Kira_ meant nothing?

Hisagi was within his rights to break up with Kira, but to twist the blade like this, so purposefully, so cruelly – Ikkaku wasn’t gonna’ stand for that. There was no way in hell he was gonna’ let any more harm come to Kira Izuru, especially not from that piece of shit, Hisagi.

But god, what on earth was Hisagi’s problem? Did he have no heart anymore? Was he that bitter that he would stoop so low? Just because he and Kira were broken up, he was gonna’ act like he didn’t love him anymore, like he didn’t even care if he was _dead?_ He wouldn’t even go see him in the hospital or even want to know what happened?  
  


 _What the fuck was his damage?!_  
  


Ikkaku supposed that it didn’t fucking matter what had happened between those two to split them up – something that hadn’t even been Kira’s _fault._ It didn’t matter that their relationship had spanned years, years of good memories and teamwork and support. It didn’t matter at all, did it - none of it did, because Hisagi obviously cared more about being pissed than he did about Kira’s wellbeing. He was just gonna’ leave Kira all on his own.

Ikkaku can't accept this. Kira had succumbed to all the _torture_ he’d gone through for _one second,_ and Hisagi was going to make him pay for it forever. Sure, Hisagi had ‘forgiven’ him and tried to comfort and fix Kira before, but no matter what Izuru had done, it just had never been enough for Hisagi. He’d never been able to accept it, and he’d left over and over, tearing the both of them to shreds emotionally. Kira was always the one who paid for it the worst too, and he was still suffering from it now in more ways than one.

Despair flooded Ikkaku as he tried not to think the obvious: that being tossed aside and treated like this during his hour of need, _now,_ was the last thing Kira needed from Hisagi. Ikkaku could only imagine how it would feel for Kira to wake up expecting Shuuhei to be slumped in a chair, worried about him, and then to see that he had no visitors, that nobody had come. Kira already felt hopeless and alone as it was, but having no one come to claim him – that just might tip him over the edge.

Ikkaku couldn’t fucking believe Hisagi was pulling this crap; was he doing this on purpose? Was he trying to _punish_ Kira or something? Hadn’t he done _enough_ at this point?! Ikkaku’d like to hurt Hisagi back, to find his sore point and crush it - Hisagi had burned him before, but this time it was personal. Ikkaku would really like to get him back and make him pay for everything he’d done to Kira, for cursing Renji out and hurting his feelings, for trying to swipe Yumichika, and for the fucking cherry on top of the sundae: abandoning his lover at the hospital without a second thought.

What hurt the most was the fact that Kira had to bear the brunt of Hisagi’s little tantrum yet again. _Kira_ was the one who would suffer for this. Kira was in bad shape as it was, and now this… this _bastard_ was just gonna’… Ugh, it made Ikkaku _sick._  
  


“Ikkaku, we’ve gotta’ get him. After this shift, let’s go get him, alright? The hospital’s in Sumida, so it’s not convenient, but Izuru’s there all by himself and he doesn’t have anyone to come get him, and- and-” Renji shook his head a few times, only seeing that Ikkaku was pissed off and unwilling. “Somebody has to go get him and take care of him, Ikkaku-senpai,” he said meekly.   “We’re all he has.”  
  


Renji had gotten the wrong impression from Ikkaku’s expression and his rageful silence, but Ikkaku didn’t bother setting him straight, still brooding over how he’d like to make Hisagi pay for this, if he could. But no, the fighting was done with.

Ikkaku was a believer that if someone – no matter how close they were to you, even if they were _family –_ hurt you irreparably and consistently, and was unnecessarily cruel, then you were at rights to cut them out of your life. That being said, Hisagi was walking a fine line here.

 _However,_ even though Hisagi had never quite been in Ikkaku’s good graces, he’d still been their friend for a long long time, even after doing all this crap. Ikkaku knew deep inside, under all the anger and hurt he was feeling for what Hisagi had done to him, and Kira, and Renji, that Hisagi was suffering and confused too. Was aggravating the situation by prodding Hisagi further into a snit really going to help things?

Nah, Ikkaku would’ve left Hisagi alone actually, since he’d cooled down about that whole Yumichika thing, understanding a little of why Hisagi had done it, but fuck, not this time, not about _this._ Ikkaku could overlook being cruel to _him,_ but to Izuru? _Now?_ Hisagi had  _no_ fucking leeway there. He’d like to have Hisagi’s head for this, but again, would it be best to provoke Hisagi and aggravate and estrange him even further?  
  


Besides, they didn’t even know where he was, so Ikkaku couldn’t make him pay for jack shit right now anyways.  
  


Even if he’d had immediate access to Hisagi’s person though, even if Ikkaku hadn’t had the self-control to spare Hisagi for Hisagi’s own sake, _even if_ Ikkaku had forgone caring about salvaging the group’s friendship through diplomacy, he still decided that he wouldn’t bring any more violence into this, but _only_ because he cared about Izuru so much. Ikkaku knew damn well that the last thing Kira needed right now was to have his caretakers and sole support system breaking apart at the hinges, beating each other to shit. That had already happened a few days ago, and it had to stop sometime. No, Ikkaku would keep his temper for now, but it was only for Izuru’s sake.  
  


“Senpai, don’t you care about Izuru?” Renji urged once more, hesitantly.  
  


Ikkaku let out a long sigh, pinching his brow as he tapped his foot, other hand on his hip. “Okay,” he finally said quietly. “We’ll get him.” Renji seemed relieved by that, but the both of them went back to work in a tense worried silence that neither dared to break.  
  


     If Kira was being sent home after only staying one night in the hospital, then surely things were alright. It must’ve simply been a serious one-time drinking binge that he’d recovered from overnight. Ikkaku reasoned that he’d probably just overreacted to Kira jumping on his lap – that had fucking _spooked_ him. Maybe he’d assumed Kira was drunker than he actually was, but he didn’t want to believe that Kira's advance had been because he'd just gotten _that_ low.

No, Ikkaku knew what drunk was better than most people, and Kira had been _drunk._ For one, he’d puked a ton and had been in a stupor on the floor. He’d had the clammy skin and the shaky hands. That had been reason enough to call 119. Ikkaku clearly remembered how sick and scared he’d felt seeing Kira like that, and he didn’t like it at all. He was sure that Kira really could’ve died that night.

He wondered what they’d done for Kira at the hospital after picking him up . . . Maybe pumped his stomach, let him get some rest . . . Hopefully, it wasn’t too serious. Kira had always been a lightweight, so maybe he hadn’t drank very much but had still garnered those effects, but even so, he had seemed really sick to Ikkaku. He’d never fucking seen Izuru like that.

Ikkaku just hoped he was _actually_ okay. He’d seemed okay when Ikkaku had gone to see him, but he clearly wasn’t. Kira was very very sick. Ikkaku only hoped that the hospital hadn’t made a mistake and released him too early; he knew that Kira was good at putting up a strong front and didn’t like to make people worry about him, something about not wanting to be a bother.  
  


    “Hello, I’m calling about an employee? Is Kurosaki Ichigo available? … No, no, I just need to speak with him… Yeah, it’s me again, sorry… No, look, I’m sorry, I can’t talk now. Please just put me through? Thanks… It’s okay, I can wait for him… Look, please just put me through, I can’t talk right now.” Ikkaku raised an eyebrow as Renji sighed and rubbed his brow, leaning back in the comfy chair that had been free ever since Hisagi’s worthless ass had stopped showing up to work.  
  


Ikkaku just continued throwing himself into his work, half-listening to Renji’s conversation. He could tell the exact moment Ichigo was put on the line, because he could hear muffled yelling coming through Renji’s phone, unintelligible, but definitely belonging to Kurosaki. Renji apologized profusely to Ichigo, who was obviously pissed about being bugged and pulled away from his job, probably thinking Renji was calling for some random reason again. It probably reflected badly on Ichigo to be receiving phone calls from his lover while he was working, but well, Renji had an actual good reason this time.

“Hey… Yeah, sorry, I know. I just had to tell you I’m gonna’ be late comin’ home tonight… I couldn’t, I know you don’t pick up your cell when you’re workin’ and you see it’s _me_ callin’, I’m not dumb! … Pfft, whatever. Anyways, look, Izuru’s in the hospital out in Sumida and he’s got no one to pick him up, so me and Ikkaku are gonna’ go get him after work. We’re not exactly sure if he should be sleeping alone so soon, and-… Yeah so,” Renji lowered his voice then, as if ashamed to even admit it or to air Kira’s dirty laundry in public, “Izuru was drinking a bunch again and Ikkaku went over there and… well, it was bad enough that _he_ called an ambulance… Yeah. Anyway, Izuru needs to be picked up, so I just wanted to check if it was okay with you if I brought him to our place? Just for a couple nights? You could help watch him, since you’re an expert?” Renji asked almost pleadingly, knowing just how to manipulate Ichigo’s bleeding-heart with the right amounts of praise, guilt, and begging.

Ichigo was quiet on the line for a moment, and then answered something. Renji let out a relieved breath, the chair creaking as he sagged in it. “You’re the best, Ichigo,” he said with a small fond smile. “Okay, see you tonight. Don’t work too hard.” His eyes shifted to Ikkaku, his grin tightening a little. “You too, loser. Bye.”

“You two are gross,” Ikkaku muttered, but Renji just shrugged, smile becoming a little sad as the both of them let their thoughts drift back to Kira, all alone in the hospital, waiting for someone to get him.  
  


     After their shift, Renji drove them out to Sumida, Ikkaku sitting in the passenger’s seat and holding Renji’s super-nice new phone, reading him the directions as they appeared on Google Maps. When they got to the hospital, they left the car in a parking structure and headed into the main building, not knowing where to begin to find their friend.

“So… I don’t know where they’d take Izuru for just alcohol poisoning actually,” Renji said, scratching his head. “How bad was he? Do you think he drank enough that he had organ failures or something? Because that’d place him in critical care and I’m really hoping that… Just no, I’m not even gonna’ think about that.”

“Well, I dunno’ about organ failure, but I _did_ call an ambulance. Doesn’t that mean he was taken to the emergency part of the hospital?” Ikkaku reasoned, leaning on the main counter.

“Yeah, that’d land him in the A&E,” Renji said, sounding more confident, but in a completely morbid way that told Ikkaku that Renji was right, but not happy about being right. However, ‘A N E’ meant nothing to him.

“Huh?”

“Casualty department.”  
  
Ikkaku’s throat dried up all at once. Renji nodded seriously as if to agree with his reaction, then asked the receptionist to point them in the right direction. She showed them a map on the wall and gave them verbal directions to the area of the building as well, and then they set off for it, finding another desk in a waiting room filled with people and crying children. The automatic double doors on the end of the room opened often every once in a while and let in a stretcher pushed by paramedics. When the doors were shut, the sirens outside were muffled slightly. Ikkaku tried to ignore the tense panicked atmosphere, wondering how Ichigo put up with this kind of pressure every day. Renji leaned against the desk there, where they asked pretty much the same questions again.

They did find out that Kira was being kept there, but they reached a little snag. They weren’t allowed to go in and see him; they weren’t family. Furthermore, Kira had been brought in while in an unconscious state and had been unable to complete any admission forms or give any sort of reliable information on himself other than his name. Obviously, Kira couldn’t sign any consent forms for himself either.

Ikkaku was getting ticked by that point, actually leaning over the desk into the face of the woman sitting there in front of her computer. Renji, always the polite and agreeable one who wished to avoid confrontation in professional settings, broke out in a nervous sweat and grabbed Ikkaku’s shoulder, trying to drag him back, but Ikkaku still snarled, “We were called to come get him. Now we’re here. What the hell is the problem about that?”

“Ah, what are your names again?” the girl squeaked, all frozen-up. Ikkaku eased back a little bit, still scowling. Renji took over then, trying to seem nice, but overall, it was easy to see that the stress of worrying about Kira was making him somewhat antsy.

“Abarai Renji and Madarame Ikkaku. We’re his secondary contacts. Izuru has no living family, but we’re his close friends. I was called earlier today. We’ve come to take him home, please let us see him.”

Ikkaku threw himself away from the counter in a snit, exhaling sharply through his teeth. Goddamn Renji and his flowery professional speech, he fuckin’ _hated_ when he did that! Whenever the fucking kid was in any sort of situation that was even _slightly_ formal, he got like this and tried to act like someone else because he felt like he had to compensate for his past or some shit. It sounded jilted and wrong and it drove Ikkaku up the wall that Renji tried so goddamn hard when he _shouldn’t_ be trying to change himself for people who didn’t fucking appreciate his efforts! He swore if he heard ‘itashimasu’ or ‘agemasu’ or _‘onegaishimasu’_ tacked onto _one_ more of Renji’s sentences he would grab that fucker’s head and _slam_ it on the counter! He was the customer right now, not the employee – he didn’t have to talk like that, god damnit! Renji should _not_ feel like he had to talk like a _slave_ to get respect from people!    _Just ask where the fuck Kira is and let's go!_

“Abarai Renji and…” The reception lady scrolled through something on her computer and clicked a couple times, drawing Ikkaku’s attention back. “Ah yes, I see. You two are the secondary contacts? I assume Hisagi Shuuhei was unable to be reached?”

“Yeah, that’s what I was told,” Renji said patiently, drumming his fingers on the counter. They both showed their identifications when they were asked. After a few more moments of silence from her, Ikkaku couldn’t take it anymore.  
  


“Can we take him home now, or what?”  
  


“It says here that Kira Izuru isn’t to be released, and isn’t taking visitors at this time,” the receptionist said, her voice fading slightly as Ikkaku’s face contorted in frustration. “This record was updated about an hour ago.”

“Why? What’s wrong with him?” Ikkaku asked aggressively, jaw clenched. Renji pushed him back from the counter and told him to take a walk around for a bit. He backed off and went to the drinking fountain for a while, burning off some steam. The kid was still sobbing inconsolably, and the sirens were only half-blocking it out.

Ikkaku really didn’t like hospitals, and already, the place was making him very jumpy and irritable. He spent the next five minutes tensely pacing the room and glancing sharply towards Renji every few seconds, who was still leaning up against the counter and talking to the receptionist, trying to work out whatever mess was going on.

Renji seemed to let out a stressed breath, running a hand over his head, but nodded and thanked her, heading back to Ikkaku. Ikkaku looked at him as if waiting for a full-report, and Renji just sighed. “Okay, yeah, so we can’t take Izuru home. I dunno’ why, apparently there’s patient-confidentiality. She can’t actually tell me what’s happening – she doesn’t even have that information – but I guess they need to keep Izuru for longer anyway. Maybe he had complications. The point is, we can’t take him home. _But,"_ he said, raising a finger to keep Ikkaku from blowing up. Ikkaku held his breath just before he started shouting, shoulders up about his ears, cheeks puffed out. He slowly let out the air, very tempted to release it by screaming, his hands clenched like he’d just stopped himself from seizing something and shaking it violently.

Renji’s voice was very calm and soothed Ikkaku greatly, getting him to the point where he could listen rationally and take the information for what it was rather than getting emotional about it.

“But the physician taking care of Izuru wants to see us. It’d be best if they could talk to family or a significant other,” Renji said somewhat awkwardly, since he still thought Hisagi should be here and not them, “but since that’s not an option and since Izuru’s mental state isn’t exactly what it should be, the doctor wants to talk to _us_ since we’re gonna’ be the ones who’ll be taking care of him once he goes home… D’you understand?” Renji asked after Ikkaku had stared at him for a moment too long.

“So we’re not taking him home, but we’re visiting his room?” Ikkaku clarified, cutting out what he’d deemed to be useless information.

“We’re talking to his doctor,” Renji repeated. “I don’t know if we get to see Izuru or not, since we’re still not family members, and Izuru isn’t in a state where he can tell anyone that he knows us. He’s vulnerable and they have to do this to keep him safe. I know it’s frustrating, but it’s protocol.”

“Okay,” Ikkaku said, nodding. “Okay, I got it.” He didn’t pay much attention after that when a nurse in bluish scrubs came out and led them to where they needed to go. The mayhem of the waiting room fell away and left behind a tense quiet filled only with murmuring, footsteps, and the sounds of machines whirring. Ikkaku merely focused on following Renji’s bright ponytail through the crisp white halls, trying to ignore the stench of alcohol and the low buzzing sound that tried to create an artificial silence.

Ikkaku felt mighty apprehensive now that they had a definite idea of where they were going. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to even see Kira at this point, he was feeling so sick and jumpy himself. He kept imagining the worst and it made him extremely uneasy.

Finally, they were taken to a door and brought into a room that had many curtain-walls drawn up around what Ikkaku assumed were individual beds. It was very quiet in there besides small beeps and whirs. Renji followed the nurse readily, but Ikkaku lingered a little bit, not quite sure about this.

“Ikkaku, c’mon,” Renji beckoned. “C’mon. Hey, listen’a’ me, come over here.”

Ikkaku swallowed. “How’s he look?”

“He’s asleep right now. It’s okay,” Renji said, and Ikkaku came, greatly reassured. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to face Kira after what had happened, but if he was asleep, it’d be alright, right?

It wasn’t just that he was apprehensive about facing Kira after what had happened back at his place, y’know, what with Kira jumping in his lap and all, but… Ikkaku didn’t know if he could… you know, _look_ at him while he was like this.

But he was sleeping. It would be fine. Kira wouldn’t bite him, and Renji hadn’t gasped or anything at the sight of him, meaning things couldn’t be too bad.

Coming up slowly around the edge of the curtain and pulling it shut behind him, the nurse left them alone for a short moment, still lingering in the room, but giving them some privacy within the shield of the bluish green plasticky curtains.

Kira looked awful, and Ikkaku noticed a lot of things about him that he hadn’t before in the darkness of the apartment, such as how stick-thin his arms were and the sharp curve of his cheekbones. His hair was dull and had been moved back. His closed eyelids and the dark semicircles created by his lashes were pretty much the only clear areas of his face. His forehead was percolated with sweat, and there were plastic tubes going into his mouth and nose, taped in place. Ikkaku couldn’t look there for very long.

Kira’s wrist and elbow were also taped with needles where IVs had been inserted. He looked so sick and fragile, motionless but for the deep raspy breaths he was taking. To the sides of the bed there were machines, of which one was beeping, Ikkaku assumed, to monitor Kira’s heart.

“Aw Izuru,” Renji muttered, patting on his friend’s leg mournfully.

“He looks like shit,” Ikkaku said, his voice cracking unexpectedly halfway through. He put his fist to his mouth, just staring at him for a moment more and trying to melt the block of ice in his gut. Renji glared at him.

Renji let out a breath, a ‘what’s-wrong-with-you’ expression on his face. “Hey, _hey,”_ he hissed, backhanding his arm swiftly, _“shut up.”_ Ikkaku did, standing there quietly for a moment more, hearing someone moving around in the room behind them.

A decidedly masculine throat-clearing could be heard, shortly followed by a man in a white coat who pulled the curtain aside and came in. Renji stood up straight immediately and greeted the man with more of that goddamn formality. The newcomer introduced himself as the doctor who’d been monitoring Kira’s recovery, et cetera. Ikkaku just stared at the guy, assessing him, not listening much to what he was saying.

He was like Renji’s age, perhaps a little older, and very sleepy-looking. He had vitiligo, and his natural skin tone had been a dark tan. His voice was deep, slow, and slightly monotone.

The doctor talked to them for a moment then, getting them up to speed on what had been happening with Kira.

“So, your friend here-” The doctor cut himself off, looking at them both for confirmation. “Friend? Yeah,” he said, without waiting for either of them to tell him he was right, “He was taken in last night while unconscious. He’d been doing alright up until this point – he slept through the night, no vomiting, no fever, nothing out of the usual…” The doctor checked his chart to verify his name before continuing, “Kira-ya was an excellent patient.”

Renji nodded avidly and made a noise of acknowledgement after each pause in a show of politeness, earnestly looking to the doctor’s face for reassurance, however there was none there. Ikkaku crossed his arms, bumping the side of his leg against Kira’s bed every so often for comfort. Standing completely still and at attention seemed impossible right now.

“We gave him a blood sugar and vitamin drip, a diuretic, let him get his rest,” the man went on, leaning over Kira then and checking him, “however, when he woke up today, it became clear that he’s been drinking routinely and that this wasn’t a one-time binge. He showed symptoms of severe withdrawal and he kept trying to vomit, even though there was nothing left to purge.”

Renji’s face scrunched in horror as the explanation continued, but he still didn’t interrupt other than more encouraging aizuchi to urge the doctor on.

“Did you pump his stomach?” Ikkaku cut in. The doctor turned to look at him for one unnerving moment, his yellow eyes piercing him where he stood. Ikkaku wasn’t easily intimidated, and he wasn’t intimidated by this tall skinny guy; it’d be fairer to say he was… _unsettled._

After what felt like forever, the doctor replied, “Pumping the stomach is considerably more harmful than beneficial. It can lead to uncontrollable vomiting, which is very dangerous, considering he’s having trouble breathing as it is. Not only that, it could cause perforation of the esophagus or the stomach wall. Just think about it: the esophagus is huge… Think about applying a sudden harsh amount of suction to a garden hose only a layer thick.” Renji cringed at the morbid imagery, but the doctor had said it with a completely straight face, undisturbed by the social consequences of saying something so insensitively graphic.

Ikkaku just stared back.

“Instead,” the doctor turned back to Kira then, running a gloved finger along the tubes coming from Kira’s nose, “after we inserted this into his trachea, we snaked this other one into his esophagus down to his stomach. Basically, we turn low suction onto the tube and decompress the stomach, which will keep him from trying to vomit any more, hopefully. Even if he does vomit, the tube in his trachea will keep anything from seeping down and blocking his respiration.” He looked up to them both then with his eagle eyes. “In case you were wondering, all of that is extremely unpleasant to undergo.”

Renji and Ikkaku just glanced to each other for a moment, wondering if the guy had actually just… _said_ that. What the hell?

“He’s still sleeping off the effects at the moment, but he’ll be waking up soon.” The man peeled his gloves off then and changed them. Ikkaku did a doubletake. Holy shit… the tattoos on his fingers…

“He’s going to be alright, but he needs to be monitored for a while longer. His oxygen levels were completely inadequate; we’d like to watch him until his body metabolizes all the alcohol he consumed and preferably until his withdrawal symptoms become manageable. As of now, he’s experiencing rather severe side effects. I didn’t observe anything other than sweating, shakiness, and anxiety when I gave him a preliminary examination, but all are to be expected after an alcohol binge. However, I did read the nurse’s notes, and apparently your friend had a DT.”

“No,” Renji gasped, horrified. That didn’t mean anything to Ikkaku, and he didn’t ask, still just listening silently.

“At any rate, I understand that Kira-ya has no living family and one of you will be taking over his care when he is released?” the doctor said expectantly. When neither of them answered, he prompted rather sharply, “When he is released, you certainly don’t expect him to be left alone?”

“No, of course not, I plan to take him home, Isha-san,” Renji said hastily, having gotten over whatever that ‘Dee-Tee’ thing was.

“Dii-chii,” Ikkaku muttered to himself, “the fuck is that?” He was staunchly ignored yet again.

Renji, shameless as always, went on to say earnestly, “My partner and I will take care of him until he’s well, and then we’ll let him stay with us until… well, until we think it’s safe for him to live alone again. Maybe then Ikkaku will take him for a while,” Renji prodded. Ikkaku raised an eyebrow and let out a ‘pssh,’ frustrated and done with this whole situation.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“Excellent.” The doctor went quiet for a moment, minding his own business as he checked Kira for a few more things and wrote a bunch down on a clipboard complete with yellow pages.

Renji was given a few different forms and asked to fill out a bunch of information concerning Kira, since Kira hadn’t been able to do anything to admit himself into the hospital, since he’d been unconscious and then incapable of focusing. He had to sign a few consent forms too, which he seemed uncomfortable doing, since Hisagi had always been the one with those rights. Ikkaku just watched Kira, ignoring most of what was going on.

“Were either of you there at the time of the intoxication that caused him to be brought in?” the doctor asked then, not even looking up.

Renji didn’t say anything, and it took Ikkaku a moment for his brain to catch up, because he’d been letting Renji pretty much handle things until this point.

“I was there, yeah.” The doctor looked up at him then, eyes pinning him in place. Ikkaku stubbornly crossed his arms. He was being judged. He could _see_ the guy thinking, ‘and you just watched as he drowned his liver?’ Ikkaku would love to snap, ‘I wasn’t there when he did it!’ but the man didn’t say anything or give him a foothold to get angry without looking nuts.

“Do you know if he took any spills or obtained any type of head injury whatsoever?” he was asked. “So much as a small bump?”

Ikkaku thought. Well, Izuru seemed to have collapsed onto the tile after he’d first thrown up, and Ikkaku had later dropped him too, but he hadn’t heard any horrible ‘head-cracking-on-something-hard’ noise. “No.” Then he backtracked. “Well… I tossed him onto the couch,” he confessed, “but he was okay.”

Renji just stared at him for a moment and then put a hand to his eyes, shaking his head. The doctor however, stared at him for a long _long_ while, as if analyzing the very depths of his soul. Ikkaku was starting to feel really fucking uncomfortable and decided he hated this guy. For one, he was unnaturally silent when another person was talking, completely disregarding the social norm of chiming in repeatedly with aizuchi to show that he was paying attention, and now he was just openly staring like that. Maybe he was foreign – perhaps Filipino. He didn’t sound it. Ikkaku was pretty sure he was just a rudeass and he hated him.

“No knocks against anything hard though, I’m assuming,” the doctor finally said, still looking at him with unwavering eye contact that Ikkaku dared not back down from. “No reason for a CT scan.”

“No.”

“Perfect. Seems to be in order then,” the man said. He then began to tell Renji all about how he would take care of Izuru once his withdrawal symptoms became manageable, signs to watch for, cautions to keep him away from alcohol, et cetera, but Ikkaku just became absorbed with staring at Izuru, whose eyes were still closed, his breathing still raspy and clearly audible, tubes coming out of him every which way.

It wasn’t so much that he’d been in denial about the whole situation – it was more like he’d genuinely and purposefully ignored it in order to avoid confronting it. When everything had first happened with Kira, Hisagi and everyone else had been very supportive, but no one had actually _talked_ about it. They’d all gone out of their way to keep from directly confronting what had gone on, especially Hisagi. However, by _not_ talking about it, Hisagi had cracked under the strain as it became clear that forgiving Kira wasn’t as simple as it had seemed initially. It was plain to everyone that Kira had been very very ill, but no one had wanted to accept that fact, as if by offering genuine help, they’d admit that it all had happened, which no one wanted to do.

It sucked to admit, but after Hisagi and Kira had started the on-again off-again game, even though both Ikkaku and Renji had vehemently disagreed with what Hisagi had been doing, their support had been a de-facto towards Hisagi anyways, simply because they had the same job and saw him every day at work. Kira had sort of been pushed aside, everyone mutually pretending they weren’t thinking about it. Nobody had reached out, nobody had made the effort, and nobody had tried to keep Kira in their circle of friends. Renji had in the beginning, but that hadn’t worked out so well, since Ikkaku could imagine it had been a rehash of what Izuru had done when _he’d_ shown him some kindness.

Kira had wasted away and had been shoved under the rug for a lot longer than he cared to face. Ikkaku didn’t think he’d actually seen him in person since before everything had happened, just because he’d been that reluctant to face Kira and think that… _that_ had happened. He hadn’t known how he was supposed to have comforted him or shown his support, so instead he’d avoided him altogether, too uncomfortable, and wasn’t that just fucked up?

It wasn’t like any of them thought that any of this was actually Kira’s fault either, but it had been there, a silent ghost. They’d all known it had been happening: Kira’s slow descent into depression and alcoholism – and now here it was coming to a head, and Kira was lying despondent in a hospital bed with Hisagi who knows how far away.

They had let this happen. They’d allowed Kira to suffer, they’d allowed Hisagi to get to the point where he’d just up and go, they’d driven them both to extreme measures, and they weren’t even the ones to pay for it. Ikkaku had blocked out what he should have been letting himself feel for so long, but now he was feeling it – shame and disappointment.

It wasn’t even that Hisagi had lost a lover when they’d broken up. Ikkaku and Renji had lost a friend. He’d drifted away, he _and_ Kira, and they’d let it happen.

To be fair, Renji had tried; Renji had tried very hard. That kid had put in the effort to try to see Kira and to try cheering him up, because he loved Izuru, but Ikkaku hadn’t even done that. He’d ignored the whole thing and had probably even made Renji feel like he couldn’t talk about it or ask for help.

What was worse was that Ikkaku felt partly responsible that Hisagi hadn’t even come to pick Izuru up, because it was clear that it was out of spite and anger, as if to say, ‘I’m still pissed about you and Rangiku, so I’m gonna’ take it out on all of you at Izuru’s expense. _Fuck_ you.’ He was somewhat to blame for why Kira had been alone in such a critical time.

Ikkaku was finally being forced to look this whole ugly mess in the face and accept that he’d played a part in it even if he’d stayed uninvolved. He didn’t like it, but Izuru had dealt with it alone for long enough.

    He grabbed Izuru’s chilly foot from through the blanket and rubbed it a little, squeezing his toes and playing with them, staring at the mop of blonde hair in dejection. How could he have stood by and let this poor guy suffer? If he had reached out with some comfort sooner, if he’d, hell if he’d-

Ikkaku strayed closer to Izuru’s face, eyes crawling over the tubes coming out of his mouth and nose. He reached out to run a finger along one.

“Don’t touch those, please,” the doctor said immediately, interrupting his conversation with Renji, and Ikkaku retracted his hand, glaring petulantly for a moment.

He turned his attention back to Izuru. He looked like he hadn’t been eating or sleeping well for months on end. His wrists were so thin and bony and his skin and hair were a dull sickly color. If only Ikkaku had cared to seeearlier, things might have been different. He could’ve made Kira eat. He could’ve pried his fucking mouth open and made him eat, he could’ve spent time with him and helped him forget about Hisagi in a more productive way than drinking it out of his memories. He might have brought Kira some comfort somehow. He might have reminded him that there was life after… after…

Ikkaku touched Kira’s hair. It was damp all the way through with cold sweat. He just watched him for a long time, trying to burn the image into his retinas, to make sure that this left an impression, to make sure that he’d remember and never _ever_ let this happen again. Ikkaku had always believed in self-made men and solving one’s problems by oneself, but he also believed that evil prevailed when good men did nothing… and he _had_ done nothing. By doing nothing, he’d helped Kira dig his grave. Hell, he’d shoveled some dirt over top of him.

Ikkaku ran his fingers carefully through Kira’s stringy lackluster hair, moving it off his face to help dry his clammy skin. When he was finished, his thumb lingered slightly. Kira’s eyelids drifted open about a millimeter, his eyes slowly rolling around underneath. Ikkaku stilled, his hand pausing and then drawing back.

Izuru’s eyes opened a little more, his breathing staying the same. Ikkaku glanced over to the doctor and Renji and then back to Izuru, who didn’t seem to actually be awake.

Ikkaku took Izuru’s hand as inconspicuously as he possibly could and warmed it, squeezing it and rubbing his fingers with his thumb like he could fucking rub life right back into him. He tried to portray ‘I’m sorry for all that messed up shit but we’re here now’ on his face. Kira’s eyes blinked – well, it wasn’t quite fair to say they blinked, since they’d barely been open in the first place.

Kira’s fingers twitched against his repeatedly as he tried his hardest to move. Ikkaku just stayed calm and stood rock still as Kira fell asleep once more, the movements subsiding.

Ikkaku let go and turned away, feeling dirty all over.

There was just one more suspicion he had to confirm.  
  


From: 斑目 一角  
To: ら ん ぎ く

   Do you know a man named Ichimaru?

From: 松本 乱菊  
To: 一角

Yeah, that’s Gin.

  
Ikkaku stared at it and then leaned back, rubbing his mouth and then his eyes, glancing back to Kira. Overcome by shame, he left the room after clapping Renji on the shoulder and saying he’d be back in a bit.  
  


From: 松本 乱菊  
To: 一角

Why?

From: 松本 乱菊  
To: 一角

Ikkaku, do you know him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cameo from dr. heartstealer


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm getting hiGH KEY NERVOUS, because hardly anything's happened yet insofar as i have the plot laid out, but it's already over 100k, wtf, i'm going back to edit shit out, this is insane.
> 
> anyway, sorry it's long. here's their second date.

Ikkaku was very unfocused and spacy at work. He’d grabbed the wrong tools several times and found himself yawning often; he hadn’t slept very well.

This day wasn’t off to a very good start; for one, Renji had called him at around five in the morning and told him that he couldn't carpool because he had to take care of something or other. Ikkaku – grateful for the early notice – had slept for a little longer and then taken the train out to work. Renji had come in late, around ten thirty, silent as the grave.

Ikkaku, still rather dazed and off in his own world, hadn't paid him any mind, and after a while, Renji had grinned somewhat sadly and nudged him, revealing that he’d gotten fast food on the way there.

“You’re va’ beft’,” Ikkaku thanked through a mouthful of hamburger even though it was still an hour till their lunch break. Kenpachi didn't say shit either because Renji had brought burgers for him too.

Renji shrugged and smiled back, chewing. “Thought we could use it,” he said after he swallowed. They both sat there in silence for a while, not much needing to be discussed after what had gone on yesterday.

After eating, Ikkaku lazed around during his lunch break, shooting flies off the ceiling with a rubber band, and then, deciding he needed a pick-me-up, he took out his phone.

Visiting Kira had really taken a lot out of him, but there was no point worrying about him until he was ready to be released. He’d decided that he was done _ignoring_ Kira, but all the same, it would be no good to worry himself to pieces. He had to keep his energy up for when Kira was released, so he could help take care of him. In the meantime, he'd focus on Yumichika instead. That always put a smile on his face.

He’d told Yumichika to call him, but he hadn’t gotten a call back yet. True, it had only been two nights since he’d asked him to call, so it was still too early to get antsy, but Ikkaku felt restless all the same.

Pulling out his phone, feeling very spontaneous and crazy, he typed out a quick message.  
  


From: 斑目 一角

To: 弓親                   

       Do you want to go on a date today? I’d like to see you.  
  


It _has_ only been a couple days, so to keep from being too pushy, he added something more.  
  


From: 斑目 一角

To: 弓親

                    You can say no if you’re busy.  
  


“Hey, Senpai?” Renji called thoughtfully, unnaturally subdued for his normally brash bright self. He's been brooding over there for close to an hour, and weirder than that, after finally calling out to Ikkaku to start a conversation, when Ikkaku didn't respond, he went quiet again rather than shouting and whining that he was being ignored - he just sat there anxiously, seeming to be waiting to be acknowledged.

Ikkaku kept fucking around on his phone, waiting for Renji to spit out whatever was bothering him, but after a few seconds of silence, Renji just repeated somewhat timidly, “. . . Senpai?”

“What? I’m listenin’,” Ikkaku grunted, slightly irritated as he leaned back in the comfy chair rather spitefully. This thing was his until Hisagi decided to drag his bum-ass back here.

When's he coming back anyways, huh? It was kind of getting ridiculous at this point. Ikkaku wasn’t still mad about all that shit, so why was Hisagi still staying away? Surely _he_ wasn’t still mad? Hisagi didn’t really _deserve_ to be mad after he’d stuck his foot in everything like that.  
  


Whatever, Ikkaku didn’t care - not about where he was or what he was doing, _nope_. He certainly didn’t… _miss_ him… or worry… _at all_.  
  


“I’d like some advice on how to smooth things over with Ichigo?” Renji mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, waiting for Ikkaku to snap the customary ‘I don’t give a shit about your love life.’ Ikkaku didn’t this time, because fuck, he was really happy whenever he so much as thought about Yumichika. He was starting to get the allure of this stuff; besides that, Renji sounded kind of miserable, so he should take it seriously.

Ikkaku didn't say anything, still pecking at his phone and listening wordlessly.

Renji cautiously went on, taking his silence as a positive. “I think maybe I did something, because he kinda’ brushed me off last night.” He looked genuinely bothered, brows creasing in the center.

“Maybe you pissed him off by interrupting him at work to get Kira to come home and then came home _without_ Kira,” Ikkaku reasoned.

“Yeah, but I explained why not when I got home. Why would he be mad?” Renji huffed, but seemed to take Ikkaku’s words into consideration all the same.

“Maybe he thought you were lying.”

“I don’t tell him lies! He knows that,” Renji said indignantly. “Why would I call him just to lie to him?!”

“An alibi for a few free hours?”

“Hey, _hey!_ Free hours to do _what_ exactly?!”

“I don’t fuckin’ know, I was just saying,” Ikkaku scoffed, shrugging noncommittally. Renji groaned, putting a hand on his forehead.

“It wasn’t just last night though, it’s been like _all week.”_ Ikkaku shrugged again, and Renji went on earnestly. “He’s been acting weird ever since I left the club early, y’know, that night when Hisagi and Yumichika went out.”

Ikkaku then noted that maybe Ichigo thought he’d been unfaithful – which c’mon, let’s be honest, was fucking hilarious, because that was _crazy._

“Why would I _do_ that? I-” Renji cut himself off with a grunt, staring at his feet. “Ichigo knows how I feel about him.”

Ikkaku made an ‘I don’t know’ noise and shrugged.

“What do I do?” Renji said in woe, “He’s bein’ so cold ta’ me and I can’t figure out what I musta’ done. Usually he’ll just tell me right away if I did something.” It occurred to Ikkaku that while this seemed like no big deal to him, Renji’s life didn’t operate in the same manner. He couldn’t cope with the same level of un-smoothness that Ikkaku could, because while Ikkaku had a ‘come what may’ philosophy, Renji cared a _lot_ about how things turned out, especially when they started to go wrong, which was understandable considering his past.

He actually didn’t know if Renji and Ichigo had had even one _serious_ fight since they’d gotten together. Those two argued and yelled all the time, sure, hit each other, wrestled, pinched, slapped, kicked, pulled hair maybe, because of their hot tempers, but there had been no hospital trips, no breaking up, no sleeping at a friend’s place, and no walking out on each other, and no weeklong brooding. They were frequently irritated with each other, but it came and went so quickly – and by quickly he meant spans of _minutes –_ since they were each equally as forgiving. They worked out their problems together and were a happy pair, considering that they constantly used each other as a tension release through meaningless verbal abuse. There had never been a time when Renji had had to beg forgiveness from Ichigo or the other way around; there had never been talk of them leaving each other or getting tired with putting up with too much shit. With two hot-heads, the fire just _stayed there,_ and they got along like that saying about the house and the gasoline.

The point was, Renji had never had any real relationship problems with Ichigo, and he’d gotten his degree, his dream job; ever since he’d dug himself out of that hole, he’d been _coasting._ Renji’s life was fucking picture-perfect, and now that everything was going on with Hisagi and Kira, maybe the poor kid was getting nervous that clouds might be on the horizon for him too, promising trouble in paradise, which was making him see things that weren’t there. Maybe he was even beginning to self-sabotage out of insecurity.

That being said, and knowing that his advice was valued and taken to heart, Ikkaku was careful in what he said. “Whaddaya’ usually do if you’ve made’m mad? Just do that.”

Renji let out a slow exhale, rubbing his forehead. “It’s not like that though. He’s not mad _._ He just… he’s all quiet and secretive and distant… like he doesn’t wanna’ be around me. D’you think…” He coughed then, sounding awkward. “D’you think he might not love me anymore?” he grit out in a hushed sort of voice, cringing and looking away. “Are those the signs? That he’s getting tired a’ me and pullin' away?”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“I dunno’,” Renji sulked, frowning petulantly with his lip sticking out slightly. “. . . It could happen.”

“Ta' you two?” Ikkaku said to the ceiling, as if it would assist him in smacking Renji upside the head. “That doesn’t even make sense. You guys have known each other a long damn time. He wouldn’t just decide one night that he’s tired of you after this long - s'like getting bored a' your mom or something." Renji didn't laugh. Ikkaku rolled his eyes.

"Look kid, you're both stubborn as hell, an’ it’s probably why you’ve stayed together. I mean, you’re not exactly the most compatible guys, are ya’ – ‘cause you’re too much alike. But you make that shit work, 'cause you're stubborn,” Ikkaku griped absently. “Weird-ass couple.”

“What’s your point here?” Renji grumbled in response, moving to cross his arms, still pouting. He sure didn’t like to hear people talk down about them – Ikkaku knew for a fact that Renji had heard it enough when he and Ichigo had first gotten together. Everyone had doubted that they would last a month, and maybe they wouldn’t have if it had been a simple hook-up.

Apparently they’d both been pining for each other for some time and had mutually confessed their feelings on New Year’s or some romantic bullshit that Ikkaku didn’t care to know the details of. Anyways, they’d taken things slow – to the point where to an outsider, it seemed nothing had changed, which was the cause for all the rumors on how they wouldn’t last – and then had started a serious relationship. They’d been together ever since without a single snag and were still just as passionate and caring and _annoying_ as they’d been in the beginning. 

“It’s that Ichigo wouldn’t leave you – at least not out of nowhere like this,” Ikkaku said, and he had complete confidence that it was the truth.

“I dunno’, man… I dunno’,” Renji said, fretting.

“Just stop. Don’t overthink this,” Ikkaku said, really meaning it, because that’s what _he’d_ been doing about Yumichika. Things had come down to very simple terms of honest conversation. He’d spent so much time worrying, that getting together with him had taken like five times as much time and effort as it should have.

“He’s probably just got a lot on his mind. You know that that fuck-head Aizen was hounding him and that he feels like if he’d said yes that Kira wouldn’t have been invited onto their team instead and none’a that shit woulda’ happened. Bringing up Izuru mighta’ brought it all back and gotten him thinking.”

Renji puffed himself up a little in indignance and righteous anger. “He wouldn’t think that though. He knows it’s not his fault. He knows that,” he said again uncertainly.

“I said ‘might’. It could be something else - I can't read the guy's mind. He works a lotta’ hours. Maybe he’s just tired. I know you two are a really weird special case, but for pretty much everyone else, things aren’t sunshine and roses every single day,” he said, because damn, Renji needed to learn that. The kid’s life had been shit for so long that now that he was living his dreams, he couldn’t take even the _slightest_ personal misfortune in stride. “I mean, I love pork on rice, but I couldn’t eat that every day for the _rest a’ my life,_ y’know?”

“You think Ichigo wants to eat something else?” Renji said morbidly, as if it had clicked into place that this was the only rational explanation for Ichigo’s weird behavior. His eyes were round; he looked fucking _spooked._

That had _not_ been what Ikkaku had meant. “No, no, no, no, stop!" he groaned. "Quit worrying. Whatever happens, happens. If he’s going through something, he’ll tell you in time, or he’ll get through it on his own. It either goes away or ya’ deal with it.”

“Mm… I just wish he’d tell me what was up. I've tried talking to him, but he just deflects.” Renji scratched his neck. “Somethin’s wrong. It’s not like him to keep stuff from me… or ta’… ta’ not let me _hold_ ‘im.”

“I don’t wanna’ hear that shit. Keep that private.”

“No, _really,”_ Renji whined earnestly. “Listen, last night I put my hand on his back and he jumped like a foot in the air - I thought I just spooked him, but he didn’t even yell at me or hit me or anything. He didn’t even _glare._ He just kinda’ said he was fine and then walked outta’ the room. He keeps on doin’ that . . . He’ll walk into another room or be real short with his answers, an' when I touch him, he pulls away, like he doesn’t want anything to do with me,” he mumbled sulkily.

“You’re real into melodrama today, aren’t ya’, Kid. Keep goin’. See how much better you feel.”

Renji crossed his arms, appearing grumpy as he went on, ticking things off an imaginary list and growing more pouty with each item. “He won’t kiss me goodbye, won’t sit with me on the couch, won’t lemme’ hug ‘im, won’t sleep on my side’ a’ tha’ bed! Won’t _talk!_ Won’t look in my _eyes!_ ”

“You’re blowin’ it out of proportion,” Ikkaku said calmly. “All I’m hearin’ is paranoia. Everyone has off days. He probably just wants space or somethin’, don’t make it this big thing. _Give a man his space.”_

Renji sighed, letting his head roll back. “Yeaaah, you’re right,” he agreed, grimacing, and then brightening up a little. “Maybe I should do something nice for’m. He works way too hard. Maybe I can pre-order that show he likes… uh… ‘ _Gray’s anatomy_.’”

“Heh’, that’s gotta’ suck to watch, am I right?” Ikkaku scoffed, imagining Renji sitting on the couch half-asleep with Ichigo, getting bored to death reading subtitles for a doctor show.

“I’m actually pretty good at English, Ikkaku. Not everyone gives up on things they’re not good at on the first try, like you.”

“Fuck off.” Ikkaku’s phone buzzed then and he looked down, smiling when he saw it was a message from Yumichika.

“Whatever, you’re just mad ‘cuz it’s true. Besides, I could find a dub of the show. They run it in Japanese too, y’know.”

“Hold on a sec’,” he muttered absently.

 

From: 綾瀬川 弓親

To: 一角-さん

Okay. I can leave work early today. My boss was very happy with how I handled things!

  
Ikkaku grinned. He’d been sure that Yumichika wouldn’t want to hang out again so soon – that maybe he would lie and say he was busy just to get some space. Ikkaku didn’t know how to play those games, so he was glad Yumichika had been up front from the beginning. Luck was on his side today!  
  


From: 斑目 一角

To: 弓親

      Of course he was!  
  


From: 綾瀬川 弓親

To: 一角-さん

Where should we meet?  
  


Since Yumichika was replying immediately, Ikkaku decided to call him - he's too slow at texting. Besides, Renji seemed to have perked up, brainstorming and smiling to himself over there in the corner, flicking through pictures on his phone. Ikkaku’s cell rang four times before Yumichika picked up.

“Yes, this is Ayasegawa Yumichika.”

“Hey Yumichika-san, it’s me,” Ikkaku said uncertainly. Yumichika voice grew bright as he greeted him. “So you wanna’ go out today? I really would like ta’ see ya’. I’ve had a rough night and I need ta’ have a little fun.”

“Alright, I’ll come. Where should we meet?” Yumichika replied readily, and Ikkaku held the phone right onto his face, smiling a little.

“Let’s go someplace where we can talk,” Ikkaku suggested, “Second date.”

“…” Yumichika was silent on the other end of the line, and Ikkaku actually checked whether he’d hung up on accident.

“Ain’t that the rule a’ how second dates go?” he ventured cautiously.

“There’s no rules,” Yumichika said, sounding a little…

“… Oh.” Ikkaku pressed his lips together for a moment, shifting his weight back and forth. Renji was staring at him and obviously eavesdropping so Ikkaku wandered away to the other half of the room, not that that would keep him from being heard, but whatever - privacy.

Yumichika finally laughed a little bit, “Let’s do it. I’ve always wanted to do a milkshake date with two straws in one glass.”

Ikkaku mulled that over for a moment, and decided he liked the idea of having an excuse to lean into Yumichika’s face and get a nice close look at him - his big pretty eyes.

Yumichika took his pause for skepticism, because he backtracked, “But we’re probably too old for that, aren’t we…”

Ikkaku thought for a moment longer. Since Yumichika had brought it up, it was obviously something he’d like – that was enough reason to do it.

“. . . Milkshake date,” he said, as if testing out the words. “Yeah, okay,” he said slowly, “I can do that.”

“Perfect.”

“Do you wanna’ take the train over here? ‘Cause my bike’s outta’ commission,” he joked. Yumichika laughed but then went quiet for a moment, which made Ikkaku rethink what he’d said. “Or y’know, did you have someplace in mind already? ‘Cause I can come ta’ you instead!”

“Is that out of your way? I don’t want to ruin your plans to commute home,” Yumichika replied after another moment.

“What, no way! Look, I wanna’ see you. It don’t matter how far I have ta’ go.” Yumichika was dead silent but for the sounds of his breathing. “Text me the name of the place and I’ll meet you there after five, okay?”

“That sounds lovely. I’ll see you then.”

“Okay,” Ikkaku said, going silent, waiting for one of them to hang up. “Bye,” he said shortly.

“Goodbye,” Yumichika said with clear amusement at his awkwardness. Ikkaku then had to look at his phone several times to make sure the call had ended, before he put it back in his pocket.  
  


He looked up to see Renji staring at him with hilarity. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Ikkaku grumbled, which made Renji burst out into the laughter he’d been trying to contain.

“I’m sorry, Senpai, I’ve just never seen you act so cuu _-uute_ ~” Renji teased.

 _“You wanna’ die?!”_ Ikkaku shouted, turning on him, but fuck, he felt so good that he couldn’t put any real heat into it, a smile taking over his face.

“You two goin’ out again tonight?” Renji asked, grinning at the sight of his usually stoic and reserved friend so happy. “You should take him to dinner! Someplace with _candles._ Real romantic. That’s how you win ‘em over.” He winked and did a thumbs up along with a crooked grin, the dumbass.

“No, no way,” Ikkaku said back, still smiling somewhat dreamily. “It’s casual, okay? Very casual.”

“Wha-haaat?” Renji said, sweating slightly. “Don’t tell me you’re actually gaming Yumichika,” he started, sounding somewhat irked, which was understandable, since Hisagi had just tried doing the same thing. Besides, apparently Renji and Yumichika had been pretty close at one point. “‘Cause if you are, then-”

“No, I mean, the date is _low-key,”_ Ikkaku said hurriedly. “What the goddamn _fuck_ would I do to game someone, Abarai?”

“Yeah, I was gonna’ say, that sounded kind of crazy.”

“Anyway . . .” Ikkaku then began to get a little stressed out, “Shit, I’ll actually have ta’ _talk_ to’m this time. Watch me cock this whole thing up again.” Renji leveled him with a strange look.

“So what if you have to talk? Yumichika’s pretty chatty. He’ll compensate if you get too quiet. Besides, _you’re_ the one who just invited him out. Don’t get cold feet now.”

Ikkaku grumbled a bit. “I dunno’, geez… I just feel like every time I see’m, I stick my foot’n it and say somethin’ dumb. I don’t know when ta’ keep my mouth shut.”

“Senpai, anything you have to say is worth hearing.” Ikkaku was about to curse some more, but he looked up to Renji’s face and found that he wasn’t joking, which shut him up. Fuck this kid, making him blush.

“He wants a second date for a reason. Just have fun, okay?” Renji said with a grin, and Ikkaku just stared at him . . . _This goddamn kid_ . . . Even if the entire world went sour, Abarai Renji would still be a good man. Made Ikkaku want to hit him. “Yumichika’s kinda’ picky, but if he likes you, you can get away with pretty much anything.”

“Howdaya’ know?”

“Yumichika’s kind of like my mom,” Renji said with a flippant shrug, then seemed to rethink his words. “Don’t tell’m I said that.” He then rerouted to his main point. “What I mean is, he likes you, so you’re pretty much home free. Be yourself. That must be what he likes.”

“Yoshi,” Ikkaku muttered, mulling that over somewhat. He’d had to remind himself of that a few times now surprisingly. It wasn’t like him to feel undeserving or down on himself, but it was just such a shock that he’d gotten Yumichika.

“Second dates are great. All the pressure’s off at that point,” Renji noted, bringing him out of his thoughts once more. “You should try to get a kiss!”

“I dunno’. Like I said, I have to talk this time,” Ikkaku repeated, as if to say that because of that Yumichika wouldn’t want to kiss him. What’s more was that Ikkaku didn’t even know if he wanted to kiss yet anyway _._

“Well then don’t talk. Just _keep it super simple,”_ Renji said with some sort of undertone as if to say that those words meant something more. He even winked and made a clicking noise, making fingerguns. There was either a double meaning here that Ikkaku kept missing, or Renji was being his weird self. Both were equally likely.

“Fine, whatever.”

“Just have fun.”

“Fine.”  
  


Although Ikkaku was sure he’d have fun, he was a bit apprehensive as he clocked out of work and took a bus to the area of the address Yumichika had given him. From what he surmised, second dates were spent getting to know each other, and he wasn’t so great at talking about himself. He could listen, but he never felt like he had anything necessary to add.

Hopefully Renji's right about the 'being himself' thing, which seemed like it would work, since Yumichika had seemed to respond to him much better once he’d stopped beating around the bush and just come out and _said_ that he liked him.

Maybe he should just get _Yumichika_ to talk. Rangiku had said that Yumichika liked to talk about himself, and Ikkaku did want to know more about him and his life. He could be a good listener when he wanted to.

It'll go well, he's sure. He was actually quite excited to see Yumichika. As he hopped off the bus, he absently wandered towards the shop where they were supposed to meet. Apparently the door was blue with a bell on it.

What worried him more was if it _did_ go well. He might not've though ahead before, but now he was, and he knows that if things kept going on like this, he'd have bigger fish to fry besides thinking of what to say. If things went on like this, as good as they were… Ikkaku didn’t know what he was gonna’ do. It would all eventually fail like it always had.

It wasn’t as if he wanted to lie about himself, but at the same time, he felt it was too early to tell Yumichika the truth. There was no point in doing so if it was just going to ruin things right off the bat, right? But then again, is it going to be worse if he puts it off? Usually it fell apart right at the beginning, before he could develop real feelings and be hurt beyond disappointment and humiliation. This time was different, because Ikkaku was pretty invested already, and he knew when things didn’t work out, it’d really sting.

It was a hard pill to swallow, because he couldn’t imagine Yumichika being okay with it.

Ikkaku sighed, finding the right shop and waiting outside, leaning against the wall near the door, surveying passersby for his sweetie’s face.

He tried to push those awful thoughts from his mind. There was no point in worrying about these things _now,_ at least. It was too soon. He could at least wait until Yumichika tried to make an advance on him or grew visibly ‘frustrated.’ That would be a couple months at _least,_ right? Either way, Ikkaku figured he had plenty of time to figure out how to broach the subject when it comes to it.

Checking his phone, he saw that Yumichika should be here soon, and kept a sharp watch for him. As soon as Yumichika got here, he wouldn’t feel bad anymore. Once Yumichika was here, he wouldn’t worry about anything except having a fun time and enjoying himself.

He's glad he took this chance, but it still made him nervous. Has he just taken the first thing that came along, or was it really  _Yumichika._  What had it been like for Hisagi when he’d met Kira for the first time? . . . Had it felt this nice? Had he gotten the feeling like he needed to keep _sighing_ because this light sensation at the top of his gut became too much to bear? Had he found his thoughts consumed and his eyes wandering? Had he felt the urge to be funny, to be interesting, had he wanted so badly to be enough for Kira - had he looked at Kira and been filled with hopes for a shared life? Had he _known?_

What was love really supposed to feel like? How would Ikkaku know for sure? . . . His entire adolescence could be summed up with that sensation of awkwardness one felt when they weren’t in on a joke that everyone else was. Drinking and fighting were activities that he could get behind, but dating and sex and lust and being horny seemed to be constantly going on around him but outside of his understanding. He hadn’t cared much at the time, but he did now. Maybe that’s why his past relationships had failed so quickly and harshly. Maybe he wasn’t just sexually stunted - maybe he'd never learned how to love either. Maybe that’s why no one would give him a chance – maybe there was something about him that told them he was a waste of time and that he couldn’t treat them right.

Ikkaku thinks he can fall in love, because even though he’d gotten past feeling lonely when he was alone, he still found that when he imagined his long-term goals, a life partner was on the list. Someone who'd always be there for him sounded like it could be… _nice._ He was only a man, after all, and he had desires. What that desire entailed now was to have Yumichika close to his side and for them to be together in peace and contentment.

But was that _love?_ Was he being silly? Did love require some sex-spark that caused that cartoon reaction of the guy’s tongue unrolling and his eyes turning into hearts when the lady fluttered her eyelashes? Did he have to feel _that_ for it to constitute passion? Yumichika was very pretty, sure, but he didn’t do _that_ to Ikkaku.

It's not like he's stupid, either - he might not pick up on sex appeal, but he could still see beauty, couldn’t he? He still knew what looked good and what didn’t, what sounded sweet and what smelled nice. He still thought a woman’s shape was lovely and he still knew what constituted handsomeness in a man. He’d had what could be classified as crushes in the past, and had had a few short connections. He’d felt something, small flickers of interest. He wasn’t _completely_ devoid.

Even so, that didn’t stop him from fucking up really quickly with each of them once sex had entered the mix, and to be honest, he hadn’t particularly missed any after their abrupt departures, and maybe that was because none of it had been real. Maybe he really was broken and just couldn’t care about someone the right way. Maybe he couldn’t fall in _real_ love, but when Yumichika looked at him and smiled, or when he said nice things to him, or when he laughed, Ikkaku felt pretty awesome.

That feeling felt like _enough,_ it made him feel like love was out there for him somewhere, and damn, it made him happy, and wasn’t that the point?

When Hisagi had used to look at Kira, Ikkaku had been able to see a similar sentiment on his face. It wasn’t overtly saccharine, but it had been there, quiet and lasting. Hisagi had looked at him so fervently but still with such a calm demeanor – as if Kira’s mere presence brought him utter _okayness_ – that Ikkaku felt like he must know what it felt like to want someone, to desire such a simple peace between himself and another person.

Well, Hisagi and Kira’s relationship wasn’t really something to aspire to – and that wasn’t Ikkaku being sarcastic about how things had fallen to shit with them. Those two had been together for a long time, and it didn’t seem like there had ever been a cross word between them. Their companionship had been perfectly complementary: friends and teammates in the good times and the bad.

Ikkaku didn’t know if it was good to compare himself to that. Everyone was different, after all. Look at Renji and Ichigo and their symbiotic relationship, just as contented, but with a constant and ingrained turbulence. Hisagi and Kira weren’t like that – those two had usually seemed to agree on things, and if not, one would compromise.

But all good things came to an end. Shit had gone wrong and Kira had spent a week in his room. Hisagi had been a mess. Kira had come back gloomy and lifeless, his eyes so hollow that they appeared soulless. Ikkaku just didn’t understand it.

If he thought on it, Hisagi’s transformation was almost as horrifying as Izuru’s was. Of course Izuru had gone dank and dull and half-insane, but Hisagi had gone rancid too. Something inside him had rotted and left a void behind.

Ikkaku frowned somewhat, forehead tensing in thought. He wondered what Hisagi might be up to, where he had gone. He hated to admit it, but he was worried about those two, Hisagi in particular. Kira was going to be just fine – they would make sure of that now – but Hisagi… The things that had happened to him after everything had gone down, there was a tragedy in that too.  
  


“Have you been waiting long?”  
  


His contradictory thoughts of anger and the beginnings of sympathy towards his wayward friend dissipated as he realized that Yumichika had shown up.

“Oh hey,” Ikkaku said, straightening up with a sheepish grin. “It’s no big deal, I’ve been enjoyin’ the scenery.” Yumichika smiled, hands pressed to the fronts of his thighs politely, waiting for Ikkaku to say something else.

 _‘Say ‘you look nice.’ Go on an' say it,’_ Ikkaku urged himself, and it should’ve been easy, because it was the truth. Yumichika had on a long-sleeved white shirt with a denim vest over it, silver chains around his neck, dark jeans, and black sneakers. His hair was pinned back on one side with an orange feather sticking up from behind his ear.

He blinked, suddenly feeling like a dog who’d caught a car.

“Ah, so… should we go in?” Yumichika prompted when Ikkaku stared for too long without saying anything.

“Oh! Yeah,” Ikkaku said, clearing his throat, opening the door jerkily with his arm and then having to lift his elbow so Yumichika could duck underneath and go in before him. Fuck, Renji seemed to have him pinned as the smoothest operator, but it was probably safe to say that the opposite was true.

Ikkaku quickly realized that it was one of those ritzy places for coffee, as there was a barista, and the menu was in curly stylized script that he couldn’t read too well. From what he could tell, he’d never had most of the things on the menu.

Standing at the counter, Ikkaku came to the abrupt realization that the wide array of knowledge he’d acquired throughout his life hadn’t prepared him for this moment, because it became suddenly clear to him that he knew next to nothing about coffee. He knew that ‘mo-ka’ had chocolate, but that was pretty much it . . . They were here for milkshakes anyways, right?

Yumichika had already picked something out like a pro, and Ikkaku would’ve just gone with it, but apparently he’d looked visibly uncertain, because Yumichika became convinced that Ikkaku _hated_ what he’d picked out but just didn’t want to admit it, and now wanted Ikkaku to choose something instead. The problem was, Ikkaku was kind of stuck. “Look, can you just order for us?” he hissed, ducking towards Yumichika’s ear. Yumichika twitched and darted back, putting a hand over his ear and adjusting his feather, glaring at him.

“What, is your masculinity so fragile that you can’t even order a milkshake?” Yumichika snarked, furrowing his pretty brow, and damn if Yumichika didn’t just say whatever he wanted without trying to spare a person's feelings.

“No,” Ikkaku snapped, trying to keep his voice down, but fuck, he hated when Yumichika just made random assumptions like that – because usually it meant Ikkaku was forced to admit the embarrassing truth. “I just can’t order, okay?” he begrudgingly admitted. “. . . I don’t know what half of it is. I usually just drink tea or alcohol.”

“Well, what do you feel like?” Yumichika asked, seeming pacified. “Fruit? Candy? Do you want cinnamon? Chocolate?”

“I just want something simple. Nothing on the top, nothing… no sprinkles or extra stuff.” Ikkaku flicked his eyes back up to the menu. “Do you think they even have something like that?”

Yumichika gave him an appraising look for a moment, fist on his chin, and then looked over the menu quickly, nodding once or twice. “Root beer. How about that?”

“Root beer?!” he badly repeated in enthusiasm, butchering the words. “Do they really have it?” Ikkaku asked eagerly. Damn, he _never_ could find a place that sold it outside of Okinawa!  “Yeah, that’s what I want.”  Reconsidering, since everyone he’d ever seen take a sip had spat it out and complained that it tasted like medicine, Ikkaku cooled his jets a bit . . .  He didn’t want to make Yumichika suffer just to please him.

“. . . I know you wanted to share,” he muttered. “If you don’t like it, it’s fine, we can pick somethin’ else.” The only people he knew who like it were foreigners.

Yumichika grimaced slightly, but looked at Ikkaku once again, up and down. “It’s just right,” he finally said, seeming to settle with that. “Go pick out a table,” he then commanded, waving him off with a wry grin. Ikkaku made him take some money and then stomped away like a chump and got a window seat with high chairs. He spun in his seat as he waited.

Yumichika took a while ordering. Maybe the menu item was unpopular and the cashier thought it was a mistake or something. Ikkaku would've been fine with drinking from the bottle, but Yumichika pestered the guy until he poured it into a glass and put in some ice cream, milk, and peppermint.

He straightened up when Yumichika headed towards him, holding the drink. Yumichika grabbed some napkins and straws on the way over, and Ikkaku shoved Yumichika’s seat out for him with his feet.

Ikkaku took the glass in hand so it wouldn’t spill while Yumichika hopped up onto his chair and crossed his legs, one over the other. This was his kind of glass. It looked like a beer mug and there was foam on the top, which was the result of a lot of vanilla ice cream mixed in.

Foregoing a straw, Ikkaku just took a big gulp of it, unlucky enough to do so right when Yumichika was about to try to put his straw in the glass, leaving him sitting there with his hand out awkwardly. “Mmf, Sorry,” Ikkaku muttered, wiping his mouth and setting the cup down, pushing it towards him. Yumichika bit back a smile, handing him a napkin. Ikkaku wiped his face off with the help of the window-reflection.

“Mmm,” Yumichika hummed as he took a sip of it. “Good choice.”

“Really?” Ikkaku asked skeptically. “I’ve never met anyone else who can stand the taste.”

“The ice cream overpowers it,” Yumichika said, brow crinkling a little. “It’s sweet enough for me to stand . . . It could grow on me,” he said quietly, smiling at Ikkaku, who cleared his throat and looked away.

“Such a strange preference,” Yumichika noted. “I thought that by suggesting it, you’d be urged into choosing something you actually liked . . . It does seem to suit you, but why? Were your parents sadists?”

“Heh’, nah. I like it 'cause it tastes like Kvass. I had it a lot when I was overseas. It's kinda’ like this, but with alcohol instead of ice cream.” Ikkaku licked his lips a little. “This is way sweeter, but I still like it.”

“You like strong flavors, then. If you like this Ku-batsu, I mean.”

“Only in alcohol. I’m kind of a baby,” Ikkaku confessed. “I just like plain stuff that’s not too overpowering.” He took another swig of their drink, “Rike viff’,” he muttered with his mouth full.

Yumichika looked at him for a moment, seeming to be trying to figure something out as he began smiling softly.

“What?”

“Simple man,” Yumichika noted. “So,” he said then, with more pep, arching his back and scootching forward. “This is the part where you say ‘tell me about yourself’.”

“Oh right,” Ikkaku said, snapping his fingers, remembering how Rangiku had told him that people loved talking about themselves, ‘especially Yumichika.’ This was when he got to ask questions!

“So, was that your boss the other day?” Ikkaku asked with a grin. “He seems pretty high-strung.”

“Oh,” Yumichika said, face falling slightly, as if he’d expected Ikkaku to ask something else. “. . . He’s okay. He just doesn’t like men that much,” he noted, “except for his partner.” Yumichika then put a finger to his lip in thought for a moment. “Actually, the guy comes in a lot even when my manager’s not in. It’s strange cutting a cop’s hair all the time, even when he’s off-duty.”

“Aaah yeah, Renji said you get a lot of different types in that place,” Ikkaku contributed.

“It does get hectic, but I’m doing what I enjoy.”

“Well, considering your profession, I’m probably not the best guy for you then, huh? … Because… Well, it’s kind of obvious why not,” Ikkaku grunted, gesturing upwards vaguely.

Yumichika took a sip of the drink, swallowed hard, and then leaned back slightly. While looking right at him, he said, “I _like_ your head,” almost scoldingly, as if chastising Ikkaku for not liking himself.

“Quit screwin’ w'me,” Ikkaku muttered, grimacing.

“Now why would I do that? There's nothing in the way to hide your features,” Yumichika replied, smiling at him mischievously. Ikkaku crossed his arms over his chest, feeling like he needed a shield.

“. . .” He scowled and then grabbed their drink and hogged it, taking a big swallow and sulking. Even if it was an abject compliment, he was still very sensitive about… _that._

Yumichika seemed mighty pleased with himself, smiling like a fucking sunbeam over there, hands in his lap. “So how about you? Any nice cars in lately?”

Ikkaku jumped right on that and told Yumichika about his current projects, trying to be as non-boring as possible. He didn’t know why he’d thought he wouldn’t have a lot to say; he could hardly get himself to shut up.

Eventually he stopped abruptly and furrowed his brow, looking Yumichika all over. Yumichika straightened up from where he’d been leaning on his arms and looked back at him, seeming for all the world like he’d been caught daydreaming.

“What?” Yumichika asked.

“I… Sorry,” Ikkaku mumbled, scratching at the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean… I mean, if I’m being _boring,_ say somethin’, don’t just sit through it.” He huffed at himself, looking off and slapping the tops of his legs. “Shit, here I am rattling on…”

“Oh, I like to hear you talk about your work. You light right up.” Yumichika fiddled with a piece of his hair, gazing at him, and fuck, how did he do that for such a long time without his eyes wavering?

“I mean, I work with people all day, and there’s always a chance they’ll be displeased, but fixing a car is completely different. There’s only one solution; no subjectivity. You really have to problem solve and figure things out and get your hands dirty. You’re fascinating.” Ikkaku shook himself slightly, trying to force the smile off his face.

“Me? No way.” Ikkaku shrugged.

“And so modest. I don't know anything about cars. Look how easy you make it sound.”

“Eh, what? Hell no, I’m havin’ more trouble at work than ever,” Ikkaku scoffed, raising an eyebrow and taking a gulp when Yumichika passed the drink back to him. Yumichika made an interested noise. “Yeah, Hisagi made this big deal outta’ things. Did I tell you he’s my coworker?”

“I put it together,” Yumichika replied. Ikkaku grunted back.

“Anyways, after he decided’a’ sabotage me, he stopped comin’ in ta’ work. Guess he can’t face me or somethin’. Anyway, things are kinda’ tense at the shop because of it.” Yumichika frowned.

“Don’t even know where he is, actually,” Ikkaku mumbled, feeling that maybe this hadn’t been the best conversation choice.

“Oh no,” Yumichika said in dismay, “I’ve made trouble for you.”

“Nah, don’t worry about that, Yumichika-san,” Ikkaku assured earnestly, furrowing his brows. “You didn’t have anythin’ ta’ do with it – you didn’t know.” Yumichika put his hands on the table and fidgeted.

“But I’ve made friends quarrel. You must be very upset.”

“Don’t worry,” Ikkaku said again, waving a hand, “I’m not mad about it anymore. He can drag himself back anytime he wants.” Yumichika seemed comforted by that, and sat up straight again, the motion perfectly analogous with that of a bird smoothing its feathers down. “. . . We just wanna’ know where he is, ‘cause we can’t even get a hold’v’m ta’ make’m go pick up his boyfriend from the ER.”

“What?” Yumichika squawked, “Kira Izuru? That utter _mess?_ They’re still together?”

Ikkaku’s expression soured. He liked Yumichika a lot, really he did, but he was on thin ice if he was gonna’ talk smack about Kira.   “Well, kinda’.”

He’d actually succeeded in putting all that from his mind until Kira was supposed to come home. Thinking back to his poor blonde friend all alone in a hospital bed with tubes and the cold and the white just made Ikkaku feel bad all around.

Maybe Ikkaku would try to make himself seem better if it would make Yumichika like him, but compromising his friends was off the table, no matter who it was for. He was big brother, wasn’t he? And his number one job was to protect.

“An’ hey,” he growled warningly, “Don’t talk that way about him. He’s one’a my closest friends.”

Yumichika smartened up immediately. “I apologize,” he said, seeming ashamed. “He does seem like a nice person, but very…” He seemed uncomfortable then. “Ahh… That is to say… Well, I don’t know. I suppose I’ve never met him in person. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Ikkaku realized then that Yumichika only knew of Izuru through the rumors of what had happened to him and stories of how pathetic he was after he’d taken up drinking. Yumichika knew _this_ Izuru and not the real one – of course his opinion would be skewed.

“He’s goin’ through a very difficult time,” Ikkaku said, his voice still sounding harsh and protective. He wasn’t trying to be mean, but he wasn’t going to budge an inch on this and listen to someone say things about Kira like that. “If you’d met’m when he wasn’t at a low point like he is now, you’d have a better opinion of’m.”

“I’m sure you’re right, if he’s your friend.” Yumichika smiled uncertainly then and Ikkaku relaxed. “I’d like to meet him sometime. I did read that he made great breakthroughs during his time researching.”

“Yeah,” Ikkaku said, his voice sounding somewhat detached. “He did. Maybe we can visit ‘im when he’s doin’ a little better. He’s in a…” He searched for the right word, _“fragile_ state.”

Yumichika seemed to be kicking himself for not having held his tongue. He was clearly guilty about his harsh words.

“But… we don’t have to talk about that now,” Ikkaku coaxed, not wanting their time together to be mired with anxiety . . . Besides, he didn’t like to see Yumichika look like that. “I invited you out so that I could take a break from all that. No point moanin’ about it. Whatever’s gonna’ happen, will.”

Yumichika looked up then. “You’re right. Let’s enjoy right now . . . Kanpai.” He shoved the glass to the direct middle of the table and held it there, jamming his straw down into the ice cream so he would get as little root beer as possible. Then he leaned forward for a drink and raised his eyebrows. “Now you.”

Ikkaku looked to each side like someone would smack in with a newspaper if he indulged himself, and then leaned forward slowly, bracing himself on his forearms as if it would keep him from diving all the way in for a full-on kiss.

What Renji had said earlier had put the thought in his head. He and Yumichika had romantic feelings for each other, and paramours were _kissed._ The thought of kissing Yumichika on the mouth hadn’t quite permeated his brain until Renji had put that out in the open. He wondered if maybe he might like to try that… if Yumichika would let him.

He bit harshly on his previously unused straw and let his eyes crawl over Yumichika’s face, his breath lightly stirring his hair. Ahh… he was beautiful. His lips were so pink and moist too, and they probably tasted sweet with foam. Ikkaku’s eyes were drawn there when Yumichika licked his lips, leaving them freshly glistening.

“Nn,” Ikkaku mumbled when Yumichika bumped his forehead against his, looking back at him. He realized how small the distance between them was all of a sudden, and he leaned back. No, never mind, he doesn't want to still.

Luckily, Yumichika didn’t tease him about his obvious shyness, and just stayed leaned forward, smiling at him. “So talk. I want to get to know you.”

“Well whaddya’ wanna’ know?” Ikkaku asked. Yumichika shrugged slightly, cocking his head to the side, grin growing wider. Renji’s other, more _useful_ words came back to him, and Ikkaku decided to just relax. What was important to know if he was going to sum up who he was?

“Well, I’m twenty-eight,” he began, drumming his fingers on the table, “I have a black-belt in judo . . . Uh, I have an engineering degree, I’m good with math and literature; I like haiku a lot . . . Uhhh, I live on my own, I like workin’ out . . . I like a good beer?” He thought for a moment more, but that basically summed up who he was. Yumichika looked like he was listening carefully, which made Ikkaku try to think a bit harder, but he had nothing. It was hard to think with that pretty gaze focused on him. “I dunno’, I like to think I’m a simply guy. How about you? How are you like?”

Yumichika blinked and seemed to come back to reality, and Ikkaku had to wonder for a moment if Yumichika ‘checked out’ every time he said more than a few words in a row. Did Yumichika actually listen, or was he pretending?

“Well as you already know, I’m smart, funny, gorgeous, _modest,”_ Yumichika said jokingly, then waving a hand when Ikkaku smirked a little. “Hmm, I enjoy scrapbooking,” Yumichika thought for a moment, humming more, “Yoga, birdwatching… I also used to be really into theatre.”

Yumichika seemed reluctant to divulge anything really personal or anything telling about his past. Ikkaku figured that would take time; not everyone was an open book with no secrets like he was… well, he supposed he did have a secret, but that was for another time.

“What, you’re not gonna’ tell me your blood type?” Ikkaku joked, nudging him with his foot.

Yumichika laughed a little bit at that. “B, and I’ll bet you are A.”

“Got me there,” Ikkaku snickered, raising his hands appeasingly, “Stubborn to a fault, and never satisfied.”

“And I’m unforgiving and do what I want without considering others’ feelings,” Yumichika confessed, shrugging with an innocent bat of his eyelashes. Ikkaku grinned. “But ah, A and B aren’t very compatible, and I’d like to think that’s not true of us. Tell me your year instead.”

“Dragon,” Ikkaku said with a ‘duh’ tone, gesturing to his t-shirt with a big grin. “Whaddya’ take me for? Born in ’88 under a lucky star, of course I’m a dragon.”

“Ah yes, I should have known.”

“Yeah, you should’ve,” Ikkaku said somewhat rudely, but he didn’t mean harm by it. Yumichika seemed to realize this and teased him that he was cutting it kind of close, being born only one year away from the division of the Shōwa and Heisei periods.

“Yeah, I got lucky, huh? How ‘bout you? How old are you?” Ikkaku asked curiously. Yumichika gave him a look and was quiet for a moment.

“Twenty-nine,” he finally said, but Ikkaku didn't believe him. He figured he was at least thirty-two, but he didn't call him out on it, figuring it was a sensitive subject. It didn’t really matter, considering they were both Christmas Cakes either way.

He leaned his elbow on the table and smiled adoringly at Yumichika. He was having a nice time. All the worry and sadness from earlier in the day had calmed down and he was left feeling warm all over. Ah, he loved being with Yumichika. Although darkness certainly flattered Yumichika and made his skin seem pearly, Ikkaku liked to see him in the daylight too.

Ahhh, he just liked him so much. He grinned lazily, blinking slowly and gazing at Yumichika’s face. What pretty eyes he had.

Right about then, Yumichika broke the eye contact by clearing his throat, and in so doing, he realized their glass had been empty for a while. He sighed then, checking his wristwatch. “Oh dear, maybe I should get home…”

“What? No!” he cried, sitting up straight, eyebrows scrunching. Surely not so soon? Was Yumichika not having any fun? “Why?”

“It’s nearing dusk,” Yumichika noted. “Haven’t I cheered you up yet? It’s been an hour or two.”

“Aw, c’mon, stay a while longer, Yumichika,” Ikkaku begged, smiling a little, putting his hand on the table like he wanted to grab Yumichika’s wrist. He was having a really good time now that he’d gotten over his nerves – he’d been a little nervous at times on their first date, but he wasn’t feeling that now. All that bad shit had completely left his mind. Yumichika’s company had become something he craved and starved for. He liked being with someone who liked him; the novelty of having willing company had yet to wear off.

“C’mon, a little longer?”

“Longer?”

“Yeah,” Ikkaku urged, eyebrows scrunched hopefully as his mouth twisted with a grin, “I’m havin’ too much fun.”

Yumichika laughed cutely, smiling at him. “Alright.” Ikkaku asked if Yumichika minded if they stretched their legs for a while. “Good idea.”

Yumichika hopped down from his chair and followed Ikkaku to the door and out onto the sidewalk. The park was nearby, so they crossed the street after waiting at a crosswalk together.

Ikkaku sighed when his feet met grass as they entered the park. He hailed from Roppongi, sure, but when he’d been very small, he’d lived out in the countryside, and sometimes the city made him claustrophobic and trapped feeling. There wasn’t much nature out here, but even just the small amount of grass and trees was a comfort.

They walked along the path for a minute or so in silence, Ikkaku in the grass to the side, Yumichika on the pavement. He’d like to hold Yumichika’s hand, maybe, but… Ikkaku shook his head and kept his hands jammed in his pockets.

“So,” he prompted with a wry grin, “Were you flirting with me before, or… At your work, I mean.”

“Oh,” Yumichika replied, smiling back. “Well, sort of. _Yes._ _”_ He remedied that, “Well no.” He shrugged one shoulder then, bobbing his head back and forth. “Well… Yes, I suppose. It _was_ flirting, but I was actually trying to make you uncomfortable.”

Ikkaku’s brow furrowed. Yumichika’s efforts had succeeded, but he’d been more of a shy uncomfortable rather than the disgusted uncomfortable that Yumichika was suggesting that he’d been going for.

“After that comment you made, I was sure you were straight and horrible, so I wanted to get under your skin . . . I do tend to do that to men who use me as a foothold to talk to Rangiku . . . It seemed to work especially well on you though, and I thought it was funny, so I kept doing it. That’s why I was so shocked when you asked me on a date . . . That whole time, you were just shy, not revolted.”

“No way, you could never be revolting!” Ikkaku said, choosing to ignore that little shy comment. “So it was fake then? You didn’t even mean it?” he then asked, a little disappointed that those moments he’d seen had been real, but not _truly_ real.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I found you attractive enough, but I thought you were Rangiku’s prey, so I felt like teasing you. Same reason why I didn’t bother to remember your name. I guess I filed it in the Rangiku’s-men file,” Yumichika explained flippantly, waving a hand back and forth.

“But the flirting?” Ikkaku asked again, sounding glum.

“Well, I had to test you, you see,” Yumichika said with a grin, trying to reassure him, “If you were the type to slur at me for such a small offense, then you weren’t worth her time. Never mind that I thought you were handsome on my own.”

Ikkaku straightened up a bit, then adding, “Does she need you to look out for her though? She can handle her shit, I’ve learned that much.”

“She’s big sister, and I’m creep patrol. Mutually beneficial relationship.” Ikkaku laughed at that.

Yumichika smiled back. “I’m… I’m glad you had your heart set on _me_ instead.” Ikkaku scratched the bridge of his nose, laughing once. “You turned out to be such a lovely man. I would’ve hated to have had to steal you from her,” Yumichika joked, pinching him.

“Heh’,” Ikkaku laughed nervously. “An’ I woulda’ hated ta’ be caught in tha’ middle a’ _that.”_

“Oh, I’d have found some way. I’d have propositioned you if it came to it and then the battle would’ve been won,” Yumichika said assuredly, eyebrows raised, as if Ikkaku would never in a million years have turned that opportunity down – furthermore, he was talking about them having sex as if it was no matter to him. Well, to Ikkaku it was. It was a _big_ matter, thank you very much. He’d like to steer wholly clear of this conversation and any related topics.

He was quiet for a few unsure moments, and then, telling part of the truth, said, “I wouldn’ta’ known what to do if you’da’ came onto me . . . Still don’t, really. Guess I’m still kinda’ surprised.”

“Oh yes? But you’re so handsome, surely you get attention all the time,” Yumichika said certainly.

“I dunno’.”

“Oh surely you’re not ignoring so many poor girls?” Yumichika scolded. “Do you not have _anyone_ trying to make you theirs? I simply don’t believe it! There must be one, at least.”

Ikkaku looked away and was decidedly silent, digging his hands deeper into his pockets as they strolled along.

“Now how can that be?” Ikkaku still said nothing. Seeming to think he’d embarrassed him, Yumichika abruptly let the topic die. Although his curiosity was still plain, it was overridden by a meekness onset by guilt.

“Don’t shut up on my account,” Ikkaku muttered, glancing to the side a little to get a look at Yumichika’s expression.

Yumichika seemed concerned and apologetic then, his voice softer and more understanding. “Are you very shy? When it comes to matters of the heart, I mean?”

“Nah, ‘m not shy,” Ikkaku said on a rough sigh, because it was the truth that he’d repeated time and time again to Renji and Hisagi. Being bluntly indifferent to the romantic intentions of others didn’t mean he was shy; it meant he wasn’t interested. “I just don’t pay attention to that stuff really.”

“Ah, I see.”

“I actually haven’t dated anyone in a while,” he confessed. He shrugged then, resolutely looking at the ground in front of him. “But I saw you an’ you seemed really… cool. An’ I was totally right,” he finished, looking up with a grin.

“Mm,” Yumichika acknowledged, seeming thoughtful and perhaps a little put-off.

“How about you? Rangiku said you’ve been single for a while,” Ikkaku prompted, maybe feeling a little nosy, wanting to be on guard for what had made Yumichika dump his last boyfriend.

“Oh yes.” Yumichika said no more after that, leaving them in silence for a moment. Ikkaku assumed he had to try again, more directly. He knew it wasn’t good to bring up old flames, but at the same time, it was important to know why relationships had failed – early warning signs of potential problems and all that.

“… What happened with your last boyfriend?”

“He was my fiancé, actually,” Yumichika said, and he didn’t sound heartbroken or sad over the loss in the least.

“Oh, so you’re the serious type!” Ikkaku garnered. Wow, Yumichika had been on his way to get married. He must be into long-term relationships rather than casual dating. Ikkaku wouldn’t have guessed. Seems he was in luck!

“Do I not look it?” Yumichika asked, raising an eyebrow. Ikkaku took a breath to reply and then paused, letting it out slowly.

“That question’s a trap,” he grumbled. Yumichika laughed heartily, eyes crinkling. Ikkaku grinned wryly, then sighing.

“I hope you two parted amicably or whatever at least.”

“Oh no,” Yumichika chirped with a dark laugh and a small smirk. “It was anything but.”

“Hm,” Ikkaku replied, clearing his throat, shoving his hands in his pockets so hard that his jeans were in danger of getting tugged down.

“And you? What accounts for why you’ve not dated in so long? Harsh break-up?” Yumichika ventured, changing the subject seamlessly as if breaking off an engagement was little more than tit for tat.

“No actually.” Ikkaku shrugged. “I dunno, things never really worked out for me. Maybe I’m a bad kisser,” he said with a self-deprecating laugh, brow crinkling.

“Perhaps you aren’t romantic enough,” Yumichika suggested lightly, as though he didn’t necessarily agree but was just offering up a reason to show support. “Since you say you don’t pay attention to those things.”

“Heh’, who knows,” Ikkaku went on with a little smile, squinting through a bit of pain, because he knew the real reason, of course. He still just didn’t want to face that _that_ was why; surely there had been something wrong with his way of treating them too, not just that he’d refused point-blank to ever go to bed with them. Surely that alone wouldn’t screw him into being single for the rest of his days.  “‘M not very interesting, I guess.”

“I disagree,” Yumichika said, looking up to his face as they walked. Ikkaku slowed slightly, smile dropping off his face as Yumichika continued. “. . . Perhaps you’re unrefined and brash, but… passionate.”

Ikkaku huffed, scuffing his toe on the ground. “Pssh,” he scoffed, “and you’re a big liar.” He walked off with a halfhearted scowl then, hearing Yumichika laughing and following behind him.

“No really, from the way you pursued me, I’m sure you have other goals and dreams, don’t you? Maybe another engineering degree? Something you aspire to?”

Ikkaku was quiet for a moment, willing his blush away. “Nah,” he finally said. Yumichika prompted and pried relentlessly though, seeing on his face that he wasn’t being entirely truthful, so Ikkaku reluctantly admitted it. “Alright, yeah . . . I used ta’ do kendo and I was really into soujutsu for a while, but it didn’t pan out. I don’t really like talkin’ about it.” He went silent then, but Yumichika insisted that he wanted to know more, not about why things failed, but about what he’d loved about it.

Ikkaku – shy on the subject, since it was a sensitive point, and knowing that if he became secure enough to start talking, he wouldn’t _stop_ and would end up sounding like a huge nerd, and pathetic on top of it – was reluctant to share much, but Yumichika’s pleading eventually wore him down.

He started talking about different training swords, the clothing, the dan system, and shikake-waza techniques, and Yumichika listened and listened and smiled and smiled. At some point, he got to talking about Nihonto and the subtle differences of each type. When Yumichika expressed slight interest on something, he’d go into greater detail, and got into explaining the different parts of an authentic katana, how the pieces fit together and that the sword was meant to go in a set with a wakizashi, which would create a ‘daishou.’

“But you don’t use real blades when doing kendo,” Yumichika said leadingly. “Just shinai.”

“Yeah,” Ikkaku replied, “That’s right.” He didn’t bother to say that he’d used to have a lot of real blades. He’d had to get rid of them all.

“You sound like you had a lot of fun.”

Ikkaku grinned. “I did.”

“So you didn’t just study it, then. You were actually into the sport?” Yumichika asked then, somewhat hesitantly, as if he thought he was wrong.

“Yeah,” Ikkaku said with a sad smile. “I was pretty good. In the end.”

“Wow,” Yumichika praised. “That sounds quite… invigorating.”

“Aw yeah, it’s _great._  Makes you feel so alive.”

Yumichika smiled widely at him, urging him on, and they laughed together and talked about Ikkaku’s dream of winning the FIK sponsored championship way back when. They mentioned how Japan had been the host country that very year and Ikkaku noted somewhat sadly that this year would’ve been his chance to make it big in his home country. Saying it out loud wasn’t so much like admitting that his dream was well and truly dead, because he’d known it for a long time – it was rather like laying flowers on the grave, bittersweet and not entirely sad, but still with an element of regretful melancholy.

“This Mihawke guy is still the reigning champion just like he was when I was really inta’ the kendo scene. Aw man, but I haven’t even watched it on _television_ in _years,”_ Ikkaku muttered, running a hand over his head.

“I bet you’re quite good still, huh?”

“Nah, I’m hypin’ it up. I was good back then, but I haven’t picked up a sword in ages.” He neglected to mention how about three weeks back, he’d gotten some of his old equipment out and played around with it, having been inspired and pumped up by his perceived success at first really _talking_ to Yumichika – but Yumichika didn’t need to know that; he’d get smug.

Ikkaku explained more of his crazy kendo stories, times he’d really beat someone harshly and times the bamboo had broken in his shinai, et cetera. He talked about his time in martial arts school before he’d left.

“Sheesh, I’ve done a lotta’ stuff. Iaido, judo, kendo, soudo… No karate, though.”

“I’ve always thought martial arts to be beautiful,” Yumichika said with a smile.

“You know, if you’d like, I can show you some moves,” Ikkaku said, “Is that something you’d be interested in?” Yumichika frowned slightly and Ikkaku literally smacked himself in the face. He hadn’t meant to say that! He hadn’t meant to push his interests onto Yumichika!

He knew that when people first started to date, they tailored who they were somewhat to keep the relationship going in its early stages, and he didn’t want to impose his interests onto someone who was unwilling. Besides that, he wanted an honest answer. This was a really important part of him, and if Yumichika thought it was fucking boring or dangerous or something, he ought to know.

“I won’t think less a’ you if you say no,” Ikkaku promised, concerned, eyebrows pushing together in a nervous irritation.

Yumichika didn’t answer immediately, nodding his head in contemplation and humming a little, lip sticking out as he mulled it over. Ikkaku didn’t breathe. “That might be nice,” he finally noted, and it sounded very genuine. “I’d be willing to try it.” Ikkaku’s toes curled up and he swallowed hard.

“It depends what kind of teacher you are, I suppose,” Yumichika then said with a teasing smile. “I could probably enjoy anything with the right teacher.”

Ikkaku, excited about the opportunity but trying his hardest not to look that way, calmly asked with a small smile, “Well what kinda’ teacher are you lookin’ for?”

Yumichika looked him dead in the eyes and said, “Hands-on,” with the most seductive tone Ikkaku had ever heard, so direct that even _he_ was unable to ignore it.

For a moment he didn’t know what the hell to do, because… that was  _definitely_ a come-on . . . Fuck, what's he supposed to say?

He awkwardly cleared his throat, scratched his nose, and then rubbed the back of his neck. Holy shit. Yumichika had… Holy shit.

“Uhh,” he muttered, then changed the subject like a coward, trying his best to ignore Yumichika’s smug smirk. “Well, what about you, what’s your dream, huh?”

Yumichika shrugged one shoulder then, eyes closing briefly to accentuate the raise of his eyebrows. “Feh’,” he sighed flippantly, walking along with him. Ikkaku jammed his hands deeper in his pockets, still feeling incredibly awkward and somewhat uncomfortable about that little advance.

Yumichika seemed incapable of becoming embarrassed or ashamed by sex or flirting, so the awkwardness was one-sided, and Ikkaku quickly saw that and calmed himself down, listening carefully to Yumichika’s goals. It was important that a person have a dream, after all. He didn’t want a companion who just drifted through life with no ambition or desire to better themselves or to do or attain something they enjoyed or coveted.

“I used to cut hair for Hamasaki Ayumi,” Yumichika mentioned, seeming to be building up to telling about his dream, but Ikkaku couldn’t help but interrupt, because she was a _mega_ -famous model, singer, and actress. She was synonymous with diva all across the country.

“Whoa!” he noted with a proud smile. Of _course_ Yumichika was that skilled as to score such a cool job. He’d fixed that shitty choppy thing he’d caused Rangiku to do to Yachiru’s hair, after all. “What happened?”

“Oh,” Yumichika said, wrinkling his nose just slightly as if to say it had been less than pleasant but that it didn’t really affect him in any way at this point and could laugh about it. “We couldn’t put up with each other’s attitudes.”

 _“Ha!_ ” Ikkaku laughed. “Not enough room for two divas in one studio, huh?”

“Look how well you know me already,” Yumichika said with a low laugh, bumping Ikkaku affectionately, who beamed happily in response.

“Anyways, yes, we respected our differences well enough that we could’ve _stood_ each other, but it was by no means a healthy work environment. Plus there was an incident concerning…” Yumichika seemed flustered then and rerouted himself, “At any rate, I hope to do cosmetology procedures on movie sets, or maybe I could settle for working for AKB48.”

“Sounds like ya’ have things figured out, pretty much.”

“Oh, I do. I do,” Yumichika said on a wistful sigh, “I have all the qualifications… you know: license, degree. It’s just this black mark that I was… _fired_ by Ayumi-san. It would’ve been great if I’d resigned or something instead, because just having that on my resume, that I worked for her, would’ve been great . . .” Yumichika sighed again. “It doesn’t matter now. I’ll find another way to make it. I’m getting there.”

“You will,” Ikkaku said confidently. “You’re talented and you obviously work hard to have gotten that much skill. You’ll definitely make it.”

“Hmm, I hope so,” came the reply.

“That’s your goal then?”

“Well,” Yumichika said extremely reluctantly. “When I was young and crazy, I was really into theatre and I was doing very well, but… you know how things can fall through. Life had its way with me.” He shrugged then, seeming very glum, and Ikkaku didn’t pry.

Then Yumichika brightened and pointed past him to an area off the beaten path under some trees. “Have you stretched your legs enough? Would you like to sit for a while?”

“Sure, sure.” They wandered off down a side path and sat on a wooden bench. Yumichika sat almost directly in the center, if not slightly to the side, giving Ikkaku a momentary crisis of how to fit himself next to him without being, like… _on_ him.

Finally he crammed himself in against the armrest, all the way to one side, leaving a couple inches between them, but not much.

Yumichika gave an airy sigh that just made Ikkaku’s bones melt, and he watched out of the corner of his eye as Yumichika crossed one thigh over the over and put both his hands on his knees, arching his back and inhaling, letting the breath out again with a smile. Ikkaku awkwardly tapped his toes, looking away. “Ahh, what nice weather.”

“Mm,” Ikkaku grunted in agreement. They were left in silence for a few moments other than the breeze and distant sounds of traffic. He watched a couple getting lovey dovey on the bridge in the distance, holding hands and embracing while watching the pond beneath them. Puh’. Wasn’t that cute.

    '. . .'

His eyes slid to Yumichika over there, and suddenly it became clear that their space would be a lot better utilized if he would just put his arm up on the back of the bench around Yumichika’s shoulders. Then he wouldn’t have to smoosh himself into the corner to give them both space.

Rather than doing that though, he decided to just go all in. It was a date anyways, right? He could be mushy if he wants.

It was strange though. Those few occasions that he had been on dates, there had never been any desire to touch or be close. In fact, any indication that the other felt that desire had somewhat repelled him. Yumichika though, he actually really _liked_ Yumichika, and if he didn’t know better, he thinks he could be happy if they became as close as two people could be.

He didn’t want this relationship to be passive and one-sided. He could sort of admit that maybe he hadn’t put in enough effort with those girls. Maybe he’d made them feel unappreciated. He didn’t want Yumichika to feel like that though; he wanted Yumichika to know how he felt about him.

He glanced back at that couple. The guy had his arm around his girlfriend and was nuzzling her neck. She was giggling and shying away, then retaliating with tickling and a sweet embrace.

That looks a little extreme. Still, he glanced at Yumichika’s hands where they were clasped on his legs.

Caution thoroughly _hurled_ to the winds, he asked, “Can I hold your hand, maybe?” Yumichika looked at him for no more than a moment before he smiled and offered his hand out.

That had been… surprisingly easy.

Ikkaku pursed his lips and took Yumichika’s hand, holding it. Then he eased back against the bench, letting the silence reign . . . A leaf blew past.

“My joints are creaking,” Yumichika complained, wriggling in his grasp and sliding his hand out. Ikkaku let him escape; maybe he hadn't been gentle enough.

Slightly disappointed, he let his hand ball back into a loose fist. He didn’t have much of a chance to mourn the loss however, because Yumichika merely stretched his hand and then moved it back into his.

He blinked as Yumichika laced his fingers through his this time. Ikkaku squeezed a little again with a surprised and pleased smile, remaining still to fully appreciate the feeling . . . The insides of his fingers were unexpectedly sensitive down near the bases. It seemed he didn’t fold his hands very often on his own; he wasn’t the type to do so in prayer or when relaxed, and that area of skin never got much contact. Knuckles were for punching, fingers were for grabbing, palms were for bracing. The spaces between didn’t mean much at all, did they.

But Yumichika… He seemed to slot perfectly in there. Yumichika just filled that space he’d never needed until he’d come into his life.

“This is nice, huh?” Ikkaku said with a half-grin, still just holding Yumichika’s hand without moving. Yumichika’s grip was moving subtly in his, but Ikkaku kept rock-still.

“Mhm,” Yumichika replied noncommittally, looking off with a pleasantly mild expression. Ikkaku took the opportunity to look down to where their hands were clasped on top of his left thigh, fingers intertwined in such a way that their hands looked like a ball, two rows of knuckles standing out.

 

He lazily let the pad of his thumb rove around on Yumichika’s index knuckle, his nail tugging on the skin absently. This was nice. He was almost sleepy from how content he was. This was just the kind of companionable peace he’d hoped for. “Pretty nice,” he commented again. “What do you think? How’s it for you?”

“Lovely.”

“Mm,” Ikkaku grunted in reply.

He let his head roll back so he could look at the tree branches above them, feeling Yumichika’s eyes on him. He didn’t particularly mind being stared at, however, since it felt more like being _observed_ in this case, so he didn’t let it ruin his serene disposition.

After a few moments of silence, Yumichika moved quite suddenly, hand stuttering in his. He looked up in time for Yumichika to say, “Oh my god, what happened?”

He was pointing towards Ikkaku’s other hand where it was settled on his right thigh. Ikkaku came back to a more alert state, sitting up a little and picking his hand up, as if to look at it to see what he meant. Before he could think up an explanation that wouldn’t upset Yumichika too much, Yumichika quickly said ‘can I?’ and then seized his hand without waiting for an answer. He then dragged it closer for inspection, examining his scabbed knuckles.

. . . Now that Ikkaku thought about it, they did look sort of bad still, all bashed up and yellowed. He could stand to do a better job taking care of his hands. It wasn’t any wonder why they were so torn up and callused.

As Yumichika pulled him around, his jacket sleeve was pushed up, revealing the stained-bandage around his palm, and Yumichika made another noise. Sure, it was dirty from work, but Yumichika was probably noting the dried blood rather than the black patches of grease.

Yumichika ran a thumb over the bandaged patch, causing a throb of pain to go through Ikkaku’s palm. Shit, he hadn’t cleaned his wound out today. It was probably all gross under there. “What happened?” Yumichika asked concernedly as he snuck a finger into the top of the gauze to pull it out slightly and try to peek inside. Ikkaku wasn’t big on nosiness but he let Yumichika do as he pleased.

“Screwdriver,” he answered bluntly, figuring there was no point in lying _or_ elaborating further unless asked.

“What?” Yumichika replied, aghast, “How would…” His eyebrows scrunched, somewhat incredulous and concerned.

“Well . . .” Ikkaku grimaced uncomfortably, hesitant to reveal this bit, since he knew it didn’t sound good, but he was sure Yumichika would eventually find out himself, and that would be worse. “Me an’ Hisagi weren’t too happy with each other a while back, and well… I dunno’,” he finished. “It got ugly.”

Yumichika was quiet for one moment, blinking, and then seeming to realize something, he dully said, “That’s why he was so bashed up when…” He froze up all over, and Ikkaku cringed, furrowing his brow. “You did that to him,” he stated, not sounding so much accusatory or surprised as he did numb.

Knowing that this could easily be a dealbreaker, since Yumichika had known Hisagi for longer than him by a lot, but also that there was no point in lying about it at this stage since Yumichika was _smart_ enough to figure it out this far, Ikkaku just reluctantly replied with the truth, voice carefully neutral. He wasn’t ashamed of what he’d done, but he wasn’t exactly proud either. He felt like he’d had sound reasoning at the time, but looking back, maybe he could’ve handled things better.

“. . . Yeah, I did.”

“You two _did_ fight over me!” Yumichika cried indignantly, looking so morally affronted that it made Ikkaku queasy.

“Ah, it wasn’t like that,” Ikkaku muttered casually. “It really was somethin’ that was a long time comin’, sadly. The business with you was just the straw that broke our backs. It wasn’t anything to do with you, really. Just the final straw on top of a haystack. Jus’a lil’ tiny straw.”

Yumichika didn’t reply, his expression going through an entire range of distressed emotions, finally hanging somewhere on shock.

He sat back and stared forward for a long time. Ikkaku didn’t break the silence, waiting calmly for the verdict or some sort of reply. It would be natural for Yumichika to side with Hisagi on this, given their long history. It was obvious he was fond of him if his reaction at seeing him at his work had been any clue. Ikkaku could only imagine them meeting for a date at the bar and Yumichika seeing Hisagi’s face all bashed up. Renji had already known, but Yumichika hadn’t. It was clear that Hisagi hadn’t told him why, if Yumichika was only putting things together now.

Shit. Maybe he should’ve held his temper. He had felt justified in the moment, and he still did, but maybe he could’ve tried confronting Hisagi first. The jerk had done a shitty thing and obviously would’ve had no justifications for his actions if he’d stuck it to him, right? He and Renji both could’ve ganged up on him and shamed him until he’d apologized or something. Surely Hisagi had to feel guilty for doing that.

But no, he wasn’t guilty. It was obvious that he wasn’t if he was holed up somewhere for a _straight week_ without contacting them and purposefully not picking up his partner from the hospital despite life-threatening circumstances. Hisagi had deserved that beating completely and Ikkaku didn’t regret it at all… even though that’s not what he’d been beating Hisagi up for at the time.

Ugh, what a mess.

Breaking out of his thoughts, Yumichika looked down at Ikkaku’s lap, taking his injured hand in his free one and looking at the bandage. He rubbed the center of it once more with a contemplative expression.

Ikkaku twitched slightly at the throbbing pain. It was pretty inflamed, probably mildly infected; usually he could ignore it if he kept it still for a long time, but it still hurt.

Yumichika raised a suspicious eyebrow then, voice incredibly apprehensive and disapproving. He didn’t meet Ikkaku’s eyes, his expression completely salty and Ikkaku was starting to realize that getting on Yumichika’s bad side was _not_ a smart move.

“You really tore into him.” It wasn’t a question.

Ikkaku was quiet for a moment, then responded, although it barely qualified as a response. “Mm.”

“I hope you didn’t do that on _my_ account.”

“…” Ikkaku sat there stoically, staring forward. He wasn’t gonna’ tell Yumichika a bunch of shit he didn’t want to hear, even if it was the truth, so silence was the way to go.

This just mad it worse however, because Yumichika's grip became tight, thumb digging into Ikkaku’s stab wound, if not intentionally. Yumichika’s voice grew cold and sharp, demanding even. _“Ikkaku.”_

That drove out a response in him, as it seemed that Yumichika wasn’t going to let the matter drop, and why should he? Finding out the man you were seeing had beaten a friend to a bloody pulpwarranted an explanation.

“He made a fuckin’ fool outta’ me, I was pissed off. So what? He deserved it after the shit he pulled!” Ikkaku said defensively, meaning every word.

“So your solution when someone slights you is to beat them mercilessly,” Yumichika concluded, sarcasm and anger in his voice. He obviously thought he’d been too harsh on Shuuhei.

“It wasn’t just about that,” Ikkaku huffed. “He was gonna’ try an’ date you and sleep with you even though he didn’t really want you!” Yumichika’s eyes narrowed, lips pressing together. “He only went back to that place that day because he knew you’d recognize him. He wanted to screw me over because he was pissed at me and he _knew_ I liked you. He’d already fucked things up for me, but I wasn’t gonna’ let him yank you around like that without payin’ for it.”

“Don’t be so pathetic,” Yumichika said so quietly yet so viciously that Ikkaku’s heart felt as though it had been speared with ice.

“That’s not how you thank someone who’d open their veins for you,” Ikkaku replied, leaning in slightly, and maybe it wasn’t the best thing to say, considering A, Yumichika hadn’t asked him to do that, and B, the main reason he’d done so was because he’d been angry, not because he’d been defending Yumichika’s honor. That had been an ‘after the fact’ matter. “I mean, I already opened my knuckles, so…”

Yumichika’s expression didn’t change with the humor however, and he continued staring Ikkaku down. “I’ve done nothing to earn that devotion, and that’s pathetic.” While Ikkaku could see his point, even so –

“You don’t _have_ to earn it. I _like_ you,” Ikkaku said bluntly, and that seemed to stop Yumichika in his tracks because his mouth worked uselessly for a moment and he just stared, his planned response having seemingly died.

“And I’ve been really happy so far,” he continued, uninterrupted by any more insults. “You’ve made me happy. That’s enough reason to be devoted.”

Yumichika continued looking at him and doing a fish impression, and what do you know, he didn’t feel so much like a barnacle anymore.

 

"I won't do it again, if it means so much," Ikkaku said, and at last Yumichika blinked back to awareness. 

"Please don't. I hope things get better soon at least."

"He's off in the woods. Once he comes out of his cave, they will." Ikkaku sighed, looking at the horizon. "Sun's going down soon. Wanna' go?"

Yumichika stood up at his side and followed as they headed back down the path. 

“Well, did I serve to cheer you up?” Yumichika asked eventually.

“Mhm.” Ikkaku looked to Yumichika and felt like putting an arm around him to hug him while they walked, but kept his hands to himself. He's not big on broaches of personal space with people he hadn’t become pretty comfortable with, but he wants to work towards that with Yumichika. If he turns out to be the right person for him, he wants to be sweet on him, y'know?

The thought was there too… that if Yumichika _were_ the one, if they were together long enough and that trust was there, if touching wasn’t something troublesome, would that mean that someday he could maybe make himself… _do it?_ It might not be so bad if they were really in love . . .

The thing was, if Yumichika really cared, he'd would never ask him to do that in the first place. He’d thought about that before a bit. He’d thought if he found someone like that, who would take him as he was and be willing to spend their life with him, fully aware that it most likely meant abstaining for the entirety of that time… if they were willing to make that type of sacrifice for him, then Ikkaku felt that he’d be willing to make a sacrifice in return. He’d be willing to try, maybe. If they were that serious about each other, Ikkaku felt he’d be able to make himself do it.

Ah, but it wouldn’t even feel like he was ‘making’ himself do it. If they were that in love, it’d just be furthering their intimacy, growing even closer.

That’s how he’d know if he’d found someone right for him: if they understood and accepted the implications of being with him and took him as is, crazy guy that he was, sex or no sex. If they could do that, they’d have his undying love and devotion.

Of course, he knew that was a very tall order and wasn't holding his breath. He’d learned not to. He wasn’t dumb enough to delude himself into thinking that being with him would be an easy sacrifice, and he wouldn’t resent Yumichika if he couldn’t do it.

At the same time, he felt it was a very small wish. All he needed and wanted from a partner was that they knew what was up with him and made a real effort to understand – and then love him and be happy with him despite it. If they could do that, Ikkaku was sure he could give anything, even _that_ maybe.

He felt it was a small price to pay if they could bring him such simple happiness.

Ikkaku grinned at Yumichika fondly, deciding to put his arm around him after all. Yumichika lets him, huddling against his side. Pleased, Ikkaku smiled wider. “How about you? Did you have fun?”

“Yes.” Yumichika smiled then, sighing somewhat sadly. “You know, I haven’t been with someone who enjoys my company like you do in so long. I guess I didn’t realize.” Maybe he and Ikkaku weren’t so different after all. It sounded like they were searching for the same things.

“You just… You listen and you look at me and you laugh when I talk, you’re _present.”_ Yumichika took a sharp tense inhale and let it out with a grimace. “It shouldn’t seem so strange, but you actually _like_ _me_ , don’t you?”

“Well yeah,” Ikkaku said somewhat bewildered, because he couldn’t imagine _not_ doing those things.

“Don’t just say ‘well yeah,’ like it’s as simple as that, like you aren’t doing that much,” Yumichika said indignantly.

“Those things are the least I can do!”

“And you think that way because you like me, it’s just-”

 _“Yeah,_ I do. Why the fuck wouldn’t I?” Ikkaku snapped, angry on Yumichika’s behalf. It was upsetting to hear such a confident person talk so self-deprecatingly. “Why the _fuck_ wouldn’t I, huh?”

Yumichika shrugged one thin shoulder, smile disappearing. Ikkaku clammed up for a moment. He wasn’t able to stay silent long, even though his words were making Yumichika look so sad.

“Don’t you say shit like that, like you’re everyone’s trash.” He crossed his arms in front of him then, glaring off into the distance, stomping along. “Puh’, listen’a’ you talkin’ like I’m somethin’ special, tryin’a’ treat you nice. What a pile’a’ shit. It ain’t no more’n’ you deserve.”

There was a long silence afterwards that was tense on Ikkaku’s end, but eventually those purple eyes looked up to him again and the smile came back. Yumichika’s expression was so bittersweet yet grateful that it broke his heart a little.

“Thank you.”

Ikkaku halted, swallowing, fist clenching and stinging from his wound. It was around dusk now and it was getting a little chillier. The city lights were coming on and the traffic rush was raging, distant beeps percolating the once peaceful park with their noise.

Yumichika stood there and smiled at Ikkaku under a tree, reaching the two inches between them to play with his fingers. Ikkaku didn’t feel threatened this time, like he was being actively seduced. Yumichika’s smile was so soft and… and affectionate.

“Thank you so much.”

Ikkaku’s body jolted as he was seized with desire, his mind blanking on everything other than that he _had to do this._ “Can I kiss you?” he blurted out on impulse.

Yumichika, not skipping a beat other than to raise an eyebrow somewhat coyly, asked, “Why?”

Ikkaku hadn’t thought about the why, just having gone with his gut telling him what he wanted, and oh, he wanted this. “Because I like you and I want to,” he said simply, looming a little closer but not breaching personal space to the point where they were touching. Yumichika didn’t move back, as if refusing to retreat on the principle of standing his ground. 

He seemed taken aback by his reasoning though, which was surprising, considering he hadn’t been shocked at all by Ikkaku’s direct request.

After a short moment, Yumichika said almost questioningly with a short laugh, blinking a few times, “Men don’t usually _ask_ before they kiss me.”

Ikkaku’s mouth clicked shut and he hummed once, brows pushing together as he pulled back and thought for a moment. “. . . I’m not supposed to?” he concluded uncertainly. He then shrugged in exasperation, sighing a little, “I told you I wasn’t very romantic.”

“Ah- I-” Yumichika put a hand up and then retracted it almost as quickly, recovering. “You’re too hard on yourself,” he scolded teasingly.

“Tell me what to do then. Anything you want me ta’ do, you just tell me how ta’ do it an’ I will,” Ikkaku said earnestly, nudging a finger against Yumichika’s, meeting his eyes with a serious expression. He knew he wasn’t romantic and that he could be insensitive and was sort of a jerk, but he didn’t want Yumichika to feel unhappy with him. If he had to get flowers or if Yumichika wanted to go to dinner or if Yumichika liked cheesy romantic comedies, Ikkaku would be willing to try. Yumichika had given him so much hope – even if they didn’t end up staying together, Yumichika had shown him that… that he didn’t have to be alone for the rest of his life. Ikkaku just wanted to give something back.

“You really cheered me up and I wanna’ make you feel great too, Yumichika-san.”

Yumichika stared at him suspiciously for a mere instant and then smirked devilishly, playing with his hair on one side. He looked beautiful in the fading light of the sunset, eyes gleaming.

“Try calling me Yumichika for a start.”

Ikkaku stared at him for a moment, processing what Yumichika was suggesting. He began to grin, wide enough that he was sure he was doing that thing that made people shy away from him. “. . . Yumichika,” he said, laughing a little bit, gazing at his date.

Yumichika… Yumichika intended for them to get to know each other. It was clear if he was letting him call him so familiarly, as if they were close already.

Breathtaken and excited, Ikkaku tackled him. He grabbed him by the upper arms and shook him around a little bit, tickling him in a bout of aggressive affection. Yumichika shrieked with laughter and  tried to get away but Ikkaku seized him around the middle and carted him off a short ways, still shaking him around and growling like he was going to eat him alive.

Yumichika kicked his legs, still howling and screaming, breaking off every once in a while in laughter, those stupid snorty giggles that were just so endearing and dumb-sounding. Ikkaku hefted him up and flopped him onto his shoulder like a potato sack and just held him there, pausing in his torture.

“Oh! Ohhh,” Yumichika sighed, gasping for breath and still giggling occasionally as Ikkaku slowly set him down on his feet again. They remained holding hands for a moment too long and then broke away awkwardly, both turning to the side slightly.

Yumichika was a ruffled mess, and Ikkaku watched him from out of the corner of his eye. He was beginning to regret his rash actions, as he suspected that anyone else would’ve gotten their arms clawed off if they’d dared to ruin the obviously meticulous work Yumichika put into his appearance.

Ikkaku hadn’t meant to get like that. It was just, when he liked someone, he felt like playing with them, and he’d started trying to play without thinking it through at all.

“Oh my,” Yumichika panted, straightening himself up.

“Heh’,” Ikkaku snickered once, the corner of his mouth turning up as they each took a step back from each other.

Then there was this strange moment where Yumichika was still breathing heavily with strands of hair in front of his eyes, gazing at him with such an expression of open wonder. Ikkaku went absolutely still but for staring back at him. It seemed like all the other sounds in the world tuned to a static channel other than Yumichika’s gasps for air and the only thing Ikkaku could see was the setting sun glinting twice off of his eyes.

Ikkaku swallowed, lips parting. He knew this was the part of the movie where the girl knew she was in love with the boy, because of how beautiful he’d looked in the rain, from the way they had first seen each other on the boardwalk, from the way he’d laughed. This was the moment when she realized it had always been him, and she’d embrace him and kiss him. This was the same moment Ikkaku should be having right now. This was a moment like that when he should know for sure whether or not it was love.

But… _but_ …

Ikkaku’s eyes flicked down for an instant in uncertainty and then back up. He _doesn't_ know for sure.

How would he know? How would he ever know if this feeling in his stomach was what it was _supposed_ to be? What if… What if he was mistaken?

But Yumichika was so disheveled and messy and _beautiful_ that he just took Ikkaku’s breath away. He absolutely stole his breath with the way he was looking into his eyes like he was having that moment too, that moment where they knew they were falling in love and that they were meant to be together.

Ikkaku didn’t know what he was supposed to be feeling, but his stomach felt like a bird was trapped inside. It was frightening and he felt like crying and screaming and laughing all at the same time.

Just, when Yumichika looked at him… it was like that question of whether it was real didn’t matter, because that gaze, it made Ikkaku feel pretty damn great, and wasn’t that what this was all about?

“Yumichika,” he said in a low raspy voice, “Can I give you a kiss?”

Yumichika still was looking at him, starstruck and bewildered, and his question seemed to confuse him even further. He stared for another second and a half before he moved, blinking and pulling back. Ikkaku watched, feeling some sort of disappointment that their moment was over, that the magic and time stasis of whatever _that_ had been was over and that… he hadn’t… he hadn’t had a revelation. He hadn’t been struck by lightning or known suddenly that Yumichika was the one. Still, something about that moment had felt… Well, he’d never felt anything like it before. That had never happened to him.

He’d never felt like he’d wanted to kiss someone so badly, as if he couldn’t contain his affection for them inside of him and had to show it somehow. Seeing Yumichika all ruffled and imperfect like that under the early stars had made him feel like he might just explode if he didn’t kiss him. But still, was that _love?_ How would he ever know? How could the broken boy _ever know_ if his love was the same as everyone else’s?

Yumichika visibly swallowed, and – obviously flustered – fixed his hair and clothes. Ikkaku stared at his feet for a moment, glancing back to him frequently. Suddenly, to his utter amazement, Yumichika closed his eyes and puckered his lips slightly.

He… he was really going to let him… actually _do it?_

Ikkaku inhaled sharply, fists balling up as he got ready, rocking from side to side like he was preparing to take a punch. Yumichika didn’t move however, and even opened his eyes in confusion once to look at Ikkaku. Ikkaku swallowed as Yumichika closed his eyes once more.

It was clear that Yumichika was waiting. Suddenly it occurred to Ikkaku that he had never been the one to lean in and do it. It had always been passively kissing back whenever someone had kissed his mouth. That step seemed insurmountable for a moment.

Taking an anticipatory breath, Ikkaku moved into Yumichika’s space, taking a moment to appreciate the shiver that went through Yumichika’s body at his presence. They were about an inch apart, close enough to smell each other and feel the heat, but not enough to touch. Ikkaku let his face linger near Yumichika’s as he tipped his chin down, his breath near his ear.

Looking at Yumichika’s long eyelashes and his recently moistened lips, Ikkaku closed his eyes and went for it. He leaned down, tilted his head to the side after their noses brushed together, and pecked Yumichika on the mouth.

It only lasted a second.

Ikkaku stepped back about a half-pace, keeping them in close quarters, but enough that there was a bit of space. Yumichika’s pretty eyes blinked open and he looked up at Ikkaku’s face, taking a shuddery breath and then… Was… was he _swooning_?

“You were wrong,” Yumichika said then with a smile, apparently having recovered his snark.

“Huh?” Ikkaku asked stupidly, trying not to touch his own lips. He thought that he had liked kissing Yumichika, but he wasn’t sure. He felt like maybe it could grow on him, but that one had been kind of ‘meh . . . Not bad _or_ good, really. It had just been so fast. The point was, it hadn’t been as hard as Ikkaku had thought it would be. That hadn’t been so scary, now had it. Very simple, actually. “About what?”

“That wasn’t bad at all.” Yumichika’s eyes softened as he smiled at Ikkaku, who took a moment to realize that Yumichika was referring to his earlier comment back in the cafe.

He laughed then, gazing back at Yumichika, feeling stupidly happy and _right_ inside. He felt like he was finally on the right track, like he finally understood a bit of why people did the things they did, why they liked touching and being together.

Slowly, not so much fearing backlash as he was testing his own waters, Ikkaku put his hands out and tried holding Yumichika in his arms, resting them very lightly around his slim frame. Yumichika was better versed in this than he was it seemed, because like a knee-jerk reaction, he slid his arms up Ikkaku’s torso and around his neck, brushing their noses together.

Ikkaku looked at him through half-lidded eyes, blinking as Yumichika’s lashes flicked. Warm breath ghosted over his face, his laughter still fading in his throat, his smile not having left. Yumichika’s hands moved to each of his cheeks, holding his face, but not caging it.

Yumichika brushed their lips together, coaxing Ikkaku to react, and he did after a moment more of enjoying the contact. An embrace was rare enough; it took him all of a moment to readjust to. Once he did, Ikkaku kissed him tentatively and this time Yumichika responded, and it felt… Hm.

Thinking hard as their lips moved together at a leisurely pace, Ikkaku let his eyes slip shut and his hands run up and down Yumichika’s slim back. They kissed slowly and Ikkaku noted that he felt very warm and protected, even though Yumichika was the one in _his_ arms.

Yumichika sighed and hummed a laugh onto his lips, holding his face a little tighter and rubbing his cheeks with his thumbs, and Ikkaku sighed in return, blinking once or twice as they broke for air. Yumichika was smiling and… and he was too.

Yumichika laughed once more as if he was the thing he treasured most in all the world and pressed their lips together once more. The fluttery feeling in Ikkaku’s stomach had moved up through his chest as he returned the kiss again. They stood there and embraced in the fading sun and kissed.

  And you know? It's actually pretty nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> awww look they kissed, isn't that sweet. I wonder what's goin on with Ichigo though. Hmmm?????
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> please comment so i know you're still there.  
> also, i know i've been kind of stingy with my updates, and I wanted to say i really appreciate everyone who's stuck around loyally to read this. 
> 
> [spongebob voice:] thank you for your patronage


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ikkaku gets a surprise visit from Renji.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyyy, Hisagi, where your bum-ass at???
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> also i am soooo sorry. This was 30k before. I cut out SO goddamn much and it's still a monster - I even cut in half even though this chapter and the next one ought to be one whole chapter. We should've seen Hisagi in this chapter, but because of the cut, he'll show his face next time finally.

Ikkaku awoke at four thirty the next morning and rolled out of bed, completely alert and energized. _Hyper-_ energized, in fact. After washing his face and looking at his eyes in interest, wondering if he should invest in an eyeliner pencil, he headed to the kitchen, banging on the tops of his thighs with his knuckles as he went.

He absently sang as he dug in his fridge and then kicked it shut when he had what he needed. He wondered what Yumichika was eating for breakfast hummed some more, this time more thoughtfully as he flicked the stove burners, eyes staring at the wall across from him. Drumming on the counter on his way over to the sink, he grabbed his skillet and set it on the right-side burner. He put his rice in the rice-cooker to steam, fried a strip of pork belly, and then chopped some onion. As he waited for the rice to be done, he dazedly spun an egg over and over on the countertop. The raw ones never spun right. 

“We are mermen and our bodies are tight, we work out all day and wrestle all ni-iiight,” Ikkaku lilted, cracking the egg into the pan after his rice dinged.

He ran his bottom thumb over his lower lip, humming. He thought of Yumichika’s pretty face again, his fluttery eyelashes, the smooth skin of his cheeks, his dark hair, his nice, nice lips.

He bumbled around, his body tight with nervous hyperactive energy, but his face and mind taken over with a contented calm. “If you wanna’ get buff, then there’s no time for sweet stuff. We just broke our window ‘cause we’re not too bright~!”

Yumichika would probably screech in his ear about his bad English if he were here to hear it. Yumichika was good like that. He’d probably paid a lot better attention in class when he’d been younger. Or maybe Yumichika was just better at eliminating his accent. Ikkaku was bad with his ‘r’s and ‘l’s especially, and because he was kind of a thug by trade, he used the back of his throat a lot and English didn’t do that. Needless to say, him saying ‘congratulations’ that one time to his homestay brother’s friend had been horrible. Eh, Ikkaku had never put much stock in English anyways, other than the world ‘lucky.’

It might be nice though; Yumichika can help him out. He's got a good mouth.

“Mhmmm.”

Ikkaku put his rice in a bowl, laid the meat strip to one side of it, put his fried egg on the other half, and sprinkled chives and tempura flakes on top. There, fucking delicious. Sitting at the table, he popped the egg yolk with his chopsticks to soak his rice with the runny insides, then began to cram his cheeks full.

Blandly looking across his front room as he stuffed his face to bursting, his eyes ran over the plain wall, the bare floor. All he had in here was a beat-up tan couch, a shitty TV, and his TV-stand, which was a cardboard box full of junk. Most of the stuff he used day to day was in his bedroom, and even that was very scant. He didn’t need a lot of stuff to get by. Surprisingly enough, he did have quite a bit of cookware, and completely unsurprisingly, he had a lot of workout equipment.

Ikkaku chewed thoughtfully. Everything's looking the same as it always does, but the table was pretty... _weird._ Oh that's it. There's only one chair.  "Huh."  Ought to fix that before he had a visitor. It could happen.

His mind drifted back to last night's date, and the kiss of course. When Renji picked him up for work, he was still thinking about it, occasionally going so far as to press his lips together and bite or lick them. By then, he’d mostly calmed down from jittering and banging on stuff, channeling it into jiggling his foot around or drumming his fingers. He was very distracted during work, daydreaming as he tinkered around with little focus, just doing things on muscle-memory. Several times, Renji had to redirect him because he’d gotten off task and was just bumming around, staring off into space and making mindless noise with whatever was in his hands.

When Ikkaku finally came to a conclusion, a smile crept onto his face whenever he didn’t focus on willing it away. He’d put a lot of time and thought into it last night and all day today, and he’d decided that he’d like to kiss Yumichika again. Ikkaku hadn’t been so sure before, but now he was. He'd actually liked it.

For a while, maybe he’d convinced himself that it wasn’t just sex in the way, but the whole romantic-relationship experience. The idea of slobbery kisses and tongues and saliva, and the intimacy of sex that involved sweating onto each other and mixing bodily fluids had been unappealing, quite frankly, but his feelings of aversion had never been based in experience, and it seemed he’d had a change of heart. Yumichika was not gross or sweaty or slobbery at all. Kissing him felt okay.

No, he hadn’t just been ‘okay’ with it. He’d really liked it. He would like to do that again, actually. It felt pretty exciting, really - he'd been worried he might have to pretend to enjoy it, but he didn't. He's looking forward to doing it again.

When Ikkaku went on break for lunch, he vaguely noticed that Renji had quit trying to talk to him _hours_ ago and had been working silently ever since, leaving Ikkaku to his thoughts, which he appreciated. Renji seemed to be lost in thought as well, although the silence on his end was very odd. Usually the kid was humming or being some kind of cheerful, but not today. He looks like he's brooding over something.

Whatever, can’t begrudge a man his manly silence. Zaraki had taught him that.

Ikkaku wandered the streets over to Mentsu-dan and got udon and then a beer from a coin machine. When he bumbled back into work with it and glanced with mild interest at Renji’s love-bento, he scowled at what looked like homemade tonkatsu and a taiyaki in it. Lucky motherfucker. Renji took those fucking pork cutlets for granted, Ikkaku just _knew_ it.

With a sigh, Ikkaku sat down on the floor and popped open the top to his meal, snapping his chopsticks apart and scraping off the splinters.

He thought of the kiss again as he stuffed carrot and chicken into his mouth, then some onion, trying to get the extra things first. He liked to leave the noodles for last so that when he finished those, he could just down the broth in one go.

“You drink too much coffee?” Renji said right in his ear, and evidently he’d said it a few times already, since he’d felt the need to get so close to get his attention.

“No,” Ikkaku snapped. Hisagi was the coffee guy, not him. Hell, the bastard usually _smelled_ like black coffee, and lately, cigarette smoke. Renji just smelled like brown sugar and pine-scented soap, somethin’ _strong_ too, so he’d better fuck off somewhere and stop whispering in his ear. “-Tha’ fuck off me,” he mumbled through a mouthful of food.

“You won’t sit still, man, you’re driving me _bonkers!”_ Renji snapped. “Would you at least be quiet or something so I can ignore it?!”

“I just got back, what tha’ fuck’re you talkin’ about?” Ikkaku replied, serene and calm as absolute fuck.

“And that’s the only ten minute break I’ve had from you making noise with your jittering all day,” Renji accused with a disapproving glare, “Just shut up, Ikkaku! God _damn_ you!”

If Ikkaku weren’t so insulted by those completely false allegations, he may have noticed that Renji never snapped at him like that, but as it was, Ikkaku was offended and eating and totally unaware of the way that even now, his foot was jiggling around and making this annoying sound against the floor because of his loose shoelace.

“I ain’t doin’ _shit.”_

“You’re doing it _right now,”_ Renji graciously pointed out, and Ikkaku was pretty much done with him at that point.

“You’re crazy.”

“You’re _makin’_ me crazy! Knock it tha’ fuck off, I can’t stand you anymore!”

“Don’t look at me then!” Ikkaku threw a headset at Renji and then proceeded to ignore him, because he was in too good a mood to go beat that grumpy fucker to shit. Damn kid and his shitty temper. The hell was his problem anyways?

Back to important matters – like eating.

Maybe it wasn’t the kiss that he’d liked. Well, he _had_ liked the kiss, that’s not what he meant. The kiss itself was still just kind of ‘meh. He’d been kissed before, and it had felt the same - so there had to be something else there for it to be different somehow.

That moment, he knew it could never be perfectly recreated. It wasn't even that it had been thrilling, because at the end, he hadn’t been nervous. That part where Yumichika had been in his arms and they’d kissed so softly, it had been strangely… satisfying? Yes, but that wasn’t the word. . . _Comforting,_ maybe?

Whatever it was, he wanted to experience it again. If he kept feeling it, maybe he'd know for sure - that he knew how to love.  That he deserved this simple happiness.

 

He absently ate noodles out of his paper cup as he thought, carefully scooping them into his mouth so he didn’t have to slurp the whole length of the things and get whiplash. He’d gotten himself in the eye with boiling broth one too many times.

“Hm,” he hummed. He’d like to kiss Yumichika again. Maybe he should say something to him. Did it have to happen naturally or could he just tell Yumichika up front that he wants to kiss? Will he still feel that magical thing? . . . Maybe it was better to bide time and just let things run their course. Maybe he’d been trying too hard in the past to make things happen as they _should_ and had interrupted the natural flow. Maybe that’s why it had always felt so forced.

Ikkaku sighed. Dang, he just really liked Yumichika, didn’t he? He just couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him. He has to lock this thing down!   
 

_‘Ahh, I wanna’ see him . . . I really wanna’ see him.’_

“Somebody’s lovesick,” Renji commented, and at that break in thought, Ikkaku looked up balefully, taking a moment to register that comment. When he had, he didn’t have the heart to go hit him or to throw something, so he just glared at him darkly. It didn’t stick though, and as he absently turned back to his food, a smile slipped back onto his face. Lovesick. He mildly realized that he’d probably been grinning like that all day without knowing.

“Hm-hm-hm,” Renji chuckled lowly, the smuggest smirk Ikkaku had ever seen plastered all over his face.

   “Get bent, Abarai, ‘m’not sick,” Ikkaku snapped with no real venom.

“Yeah, you are.”

    “I don’t get sick.”

“Apparently for Yumichika, ya’ do,” Renji said with an all-too-knowing tone.

   “I _do not,”_ Ikkaku insisted grumpily and perhaps a bit sulkily.

“Oh please, look at you, sighin’ all over the place,” Renji said fondly, and Ikkaku turned to look at him again, only to fully notice that Renji was a mess. He hadn’t paid enough attention until this point, it seemed, but it was clear now that Renji hadn’t slept more than a wink last night, if the state of his skin and eyes went to show for it. His hair also was kinda’ bad, although Ikkaku couldn’t really judge.

“Whatever, fuck off.”

“I just wanna’ know how the date went.” Ikkaku was sent a goofy grin that was still slightly smug, and Renji’s tired eyes lit up a little bit when Ikkaku made a show of considering it. Before he could decide whether to divulge any private details, Renji cut in on him, prompting, “Did you keep it super simple?”

Ugh, this dumbfuck advice again. Ikkaku was tired of this fuckery. If Renji said that again one more time, he swore he'd lose it…   “Yeah.”

“Really?”   
  
  
Goddamn, why did he sound so eager? Ikkaku looked at him strangely and slowly said, “Yeah?”

“So…” Renji grinned wider, looking at him expectantly and with a little bit of excitement, which Ikkaku didn’t understand. “Was it good?”

The date? Yeah, it had been good. . . Weird phrasing Renji had chosen right there... almost like he’d been referring to something else.

“Yeah, it was fun,” Ikkaku replied succinctly.

“It always is,” Renji said back with a shittier grin, and Ikkaku became suspicious and more confused than before. Were they talking about the same thing?

Then Renji came out with, “Ichigo especially likes it if I pull on the hair right at the back of his neck and suck on-”

 _“ Whoa man, whoa!_ ” That had come completely out of left field, and more importantly, _gross._ Ikkaku dropped what he’d been about to shovel into his mouth back into his bowl. “What the  _fuck_ _!_ Why are you tellin’ me that?!”

“Hey, ya’ don’t gotta’ be shy,” Renji said with an eyebrow raised, as if he didn’t understand why Ikkaku was freaking out at all. Ah yes, Renji and Hisagi routinely talked about sex during work quite casually, and Ikkaku was used to it, but he always kept out of it. Hisagi's gone now, and Renji had no one to talk to - and Ikkaku felt bad for the guy, really, but he's not volunteering, because Ikkaku doesn't want those kind of details about Ichigo, alright? 

“Don’t get all shy, we’re both guys.”

“ _So?_ What tha’ _hell_ does that have ta’ do with keepin’ things simple?!” Ikkaku howled, scrubbing at his ears as if he could rub that information right out of his head.

“Whu’?” Renji said more quietly then, expression blank and confused as he paused for a few seconds. “Wait. . .” He put his hand to his brow, sighing, “You’re telling me that you still don’t get what that means?” Ikkaku just glared at him and threw his arms up. “I’ve been telling you this whole time to keep it super simple, but that wasn’t getting through to you? That’s what you’re saying?” Renji sounded so fucking exasperated when he had no right to be.

“The fuck d’you mean?”

“Keep it super simple,” Renji said more slowly, as if Ikkaku was a fucking moron. Ikkaku narrowed his eyes warningly. He didn’t like Renji’s tone right about now. After staring him down for a few moments more, Renji facepalmed and then said clearly, “K. I. S. S.”

“. . .” Ikkaku blinked for a moment, shaking his head slowly, and then sighed through his nose and furrowed his brow, just staring forward at Renji. He was friends with a ten year old. This proved it.

“Did you two _kiss?_ ” Renji prompted then, not breaking the eye-contact, his voice completely patronizing.

“. . .”

“YOU DID!"Renji hollered, leaping to his feet and placing a hand atop his own head, using the other to point at Ikkaku in absolute shock, his mouth and eyes wide open. “HOLY SHIT, YOU DID!”

“SHUTYOURFACE!” Ikkaku roared back, red-faced, pointing at him with his chopsticks, which got Renji to dial it back, because he knew that Ikkaku was fucking superstitious about that shit and that if he did that, he was fucking serious _._

Renji was laughing then, eyes crinkling slightly in an entirely congratulatory way. He clapped Ikkaku on the shoulder somewhat proudly, grinning. “Way ta’ go, Ikkaku, I knew ya’d win’m’ over-”

“Stop!” Ikkaku shoved his hand off, which didn’t really help for long.

“Was it good? Did you remember a mint? You probably swept him right off his feet, huh? Did you guys hook up? Aaaaah, you probably did, you’re all dreamy lookin’.” Renji practically drilled him to the floor with invasive questions, and Ikkaku just grumbled and put up with it, because he knew Renji didn’t mean any real harm with it. To him, sex was not an inappropriate or private topic, and he was only being curious and supportive in his own way – he had no way of realizing the awkwardness he was putting Ikkaku through. The dumbass was too obliviously sweet.

Renji had quite the past, after all. This was why when Hisagi had started being vulgar as hell once he and Kira had started going on and off, Renji had been right in there on those conversations – not in a malicious or lecherous way, but he’d shown a thorough understanding of sex. That didn’t mean he was a jerk about it, though, and that’s obviously not what he was trying to do right now – no cause for Ikkaku to get angry.   Renji was still just a shitty kid to Ikkaku, after all, and it's not like he's told him the truth about himself, so how's he supposed to know?   

   But it's  _awkward._

 

All that being said, just because Renji didn’t mean any harm didn’t mean that Ikkaku was going to let him just talk about whatever he wanted. 

“No,” he said flatly. “I toldja’ I don’t have sex that soon.”

“That’s cool, that’s cool, but it’ll be past ‘soon’ before ya’ know it, don’t worry.”

“I ain’t.”

“Ah, Senpai, you should try ribbed condoms. You can give Yumichika the sweetest night.” Renji nudged him, grinning, and shit, Ikkaku really could see he wasn’t doing this to be mean. The kid was just excited that he was finally showing interest in someone. Maybe he’d worried Renji, being alone all these years. While Hisagi had found it funny, maybe Renji had been privately concerned and sad for him.    Someone oughta’ punch Renji right on the nose, make him stop being so goddamn nice.

Ignoring most of the rest of what Renji said about setting the mood in favor of looking closer at him, Ikkaku noted that Renji’s eyes were bloodshot and his hair was unwashed from the look of it. His clothes too. He was wearing this worn out faded AC/DC t-shirt that Ikkaku knew held a lot of sentimental value for him – meaning that he wore it when he was upset and wanted it as a security blanket. Worse was that he was wearing sweats. Had Renji just rolled out of bed this morning without even changing? It sure as fuck looked like he hadn’t even combed his hair!

His face, too. He was sallow and tired looking, but it was more than just lack of sleep. It was a clear amount of stress, and Ikkaku suspected that it had been building up for some time but that he had been too distracted to notice. It was probably just Renji worrying about Izuru.

Renji was smiling and talking on for a while about how he’d known Ikkaku would be able to snag him, and that he knew how to pick ‘em, and that he’d have Yumichika swooning for him before he knew it – Ikkaku just paid attention to the way that although Renji’s smile seemed relaxed and was reaching his eyes, he also seemed incredibly tired, as if being happy over Ikkaku’s success was taxing and required a great deal of effort.

At least Ikkaku was glad that Renji was happy for him. He didn’t know why, but he hadn’t exactly expected support – maybe because he’d never, to Renji’s knowledge, dated anyone, and then again, there was the malicious treatment Hisagi had given him once he’d found out he liked Yumichika. But Renji, Renji seemed really happy about this.

It's weird. Ikkaku had assumed before that Renji didn’t like Yumichika or want to be around him because of the way he'd refused to go to the hair shop all that time ago. He'd thought he was avoiding Yumichika or something - he must've made a mistake, because it made no sense, considering that Renji had seen Yumichika at that bar party when he’d been out with Ichigo and his friend.       Weird guy, but Ikkaku wasn’t complaining. It was nice to have people in his corner.

Having Yumichika in his corner is especially nice. Figuring that out seemed to make everything suddenly okay. He didn’t need to pay attention to _jack shit_ that was happening around him because he was so fucking _okay_ – nothing could break his flow.

Besides the fact that Ikkaku was thinking about Yumichika like crazy, his productivity was great. He worked his butt off until his shift was over, and then took a taxi home because Renji was working late. Because of that, he couldn’t buy that damn chair he'd planned to get earlier, because he wasn’t a jerk like most people thought. Taxi drivers aren’t paid to put up with weird shit like that.

He made himself dinner and then got to working out; he’d been slacking lately. He was getting too stringy – all the stress and nervousness of the pursuit and the sadness of the week he thought he’d been dumped was not good for building muscle mass. He hadn’t been eating so healthily either. It didn’t take long for sweat to start sticking his tank-top to his chest and for it to begin trickling down his neck as he did one-armed pushups next to his couch, making an effort to keep his body completely straight.

Whenever it started to burn and made his entire chest cramp as he gasped for breath, he just tensed his gut up and powered through it. He even indulged himself with thinking that thing he always had back when he’d been training for an actual reason, that dumb ‘this is for my dream’ shit.

Speaking of forgotten and abandoned dreams, he began to put together what Rangiku had mentioned in the mall that time with Yumichika’s hesitant admittance that he had used to be a performer and that he’d aspired to something to do with theatre or acting. Yumichika wasn’t so different from him, really. They’d both had big crazy dreams that hadn’t worked out, and they’d found a new passion that they also enjoyed, but was just… second-best. Sometimes it was okay to settle for less and be content with that, but there was always that thing in your mind that made you wonder what it might’ve been like if you’d gone big instead. There's that thing inside you that's sad because you know you're never going to have it.

Ikkaku pulled into a stand by pushing back with both arms. Then he dropped straight down at his hips to grip his ankles and stretch out his hamstrings. He then stood up straight again, spreading his legs apart slightly and twisting to each side, simultaneously stretching his arms behind his head. His chest was aching a little, but it was a good ache.

He wiped himself off with a towel and then wrapped his fists with athletic tape, setting up his old sand-bag. After cracking every knuckle and stretching his fingers and hands, he drew one foot back and took a test punch. The punching-bag had good give even after being unused for so long. He quickly fell into an easy rhythm, occasionally switching to kicks.

As the sweat began to percolate on his still damp flesh again, he retreated into his mind, the motions becoming reflexive. Ikkaku thought over Yumichika’s acceptance of his sparring invitation. He knew that Yumichika was not a trained fighter, and was smaller than him – so Ikkaku was very touched by Yumichika’s willingness to at least try it out. Ikkaku wouldn’t dare to clobber him and make him change his mind. He’d have to be gentle, but not patronizing.

Finally, the athletic tape a little bit slippery from some of the scabs on his knuckles getting chipped away, Ikkaku took a break. Taking a detour into the washroom, he peeled off and unwound the tape, then rinsed his hands in the sink. He rubbed a little salve onto the wounds and then wandered back into his front room.

He took a huge swig of water to ease his heavy breathing, and wiped his forehead with a towel. Giving up on that, he just took his shirt off until he dried out, then put it back on. Getting his mp3 player and a shitty pair of headphones, he put on his workout playlist and stretched out his legs and arms again. He did cardio for about ten minutes and then just jogged in place for a while. His heartrate was really going; his endurance had been shot to hell, but he could work on it. He wouldn’t take himself to the point where he’d throw up, but he had to push his limits again.

Hopping from one foot to the other, not pausing in moving for even a moment, he took another drink of water and hummed a little bit, hearing some odd off-beat drums in his song that… that weren’t supposed to be there.

He tapped on one of the shitty computer-lab style earphones in his headset as if they were malfunctioning, but the weird interruption persisted even when the song came to an end. Ikkaku glanced over to the door and saw it shaking slightly. Checking his clock, he could see that it was nine thirty. _Who in the fuck?_

Sighing and coming to a stop, he took another drink for a moment to let whoever it was out there squirm for a little longer. He then decided he’d see who it was rather than just shouting ‘fuck off’ like usual, because it might be the landlord.

Maybe it was the cops. If it was, they were gonna’ be disappointed, since Ikkaku didn’t have any weird shit in his apartment. Not these days.

Tossing his headset on the couch and wiping himself off with his towel and then hanging it around his neck, Ikkaku went over to the door and put on the chain latch, then opened the door the few inches it would allow. “Yeah?”

It's Renji, so he undid the chain and opened the door wider. “What a mess!” Ikkaku howled, brows scrunching. Renji had dragged himself up here to his doorstep, was holding a beer bottle loosely in his hand, and his eyes were red-rimmed. He was even more of a wreck than earlier today. “You’re a goddamn shame!”

Renji just sniffed and blinked blearily, half-empty bottle dangling by his fingers. His chin was down slightly, his ponytail ratty and tangled. His bandana was pulled farther down his face than normal, but it didn’t hide his bloodshot eyes one bit. He just looked at Ikkaku like a pitiful kicked dog, staring through him almost.

“The fuck happened to you?” Ikkaku demanded, grimacing. Fuck, Renji _stunk_ , and that was saying something, because Ikkaku had just worked out for like two hours.

   “It’s Ichigo.”

Ikkaku stepped back and let Renji stumble past him inside, because that was really all he’d had to say. He doesn't know if he's surprised or not, because those two always did get along pretty well on their own, despite the bickering, but he knew that things had started getting dicey with them since all this crap going on with Kira. Maybe it had only been a matter of time until something went wrong. 

Mostly he was just surprised that… that Renji had come to _him.  
_

Shit, he couldn’t turn the poor kid out, could he, not when he’d obviously come to him for comfort and support, even if just to whine about his sorrows and get drunk and wreck shit. Ikkaku just wasn’t sure how good of a comforter he’d be – he was kind of a jerk. But then again, he was big brother. This was part of his job.

Renji wandered in and then just stood there in the middle of the carpet, hunched over a little. He really did look horrible – Ikkaku had never seen him looking so sad, so completely _wrecked._  He kicked the door shut and leaned against it, still breathing quite heavily from his run. He folded his arms over his chest and waited for Renji to say something; he couldn’t really do anything until Renji said what the matter was.

He got straight to the point when he began to talk, his voice scratchy and low from alcohol. Ikkaku could see that he was a little drunk and fuck, _emotiona_ l. Shit, _Kira_ he could expect and deal with a little crying from – _Renji?_ No.

Ikkaku had a lot of respect and pride in the kid, and seeing him emotional like this just made him want to slap him around and _snap him out of it,_ to shake him and tell him to get a hold of himself, to shout that this wasn’t how a man acted, this wasn’t how a man dealt with his feelings, drinking himself sick and cryin’. Shit, Ikkaku didn’t _want_ to see Renji this way.

“You wur’ right,” Renji mumbled.

“Eh’?”

“That night when I left’m’ an’ his buddy on his own?” Renji prompted, trying to get Ikkaku to remember, “When I saw Hisagi at the club?” He was obviously on the verge of tears. Immensely uncomfortable, Ikkaku listened on as Renji stumbled over his next few words, his voice growing thick and choked, “While I was gone, he…”

Ikkaku didn’t like where this was going. He knows what Renji's going to say already, because he wouldn't fall to pieces over just anything. Besides, it was clear that he was alluding to Ikkaku’s earlier comment about Ichigo wanting to ‘eat’ something else - and damn, what a shitty thing to be right about.    

“What happened?” he prompted.

“Ichigo, he- he said…” That beer bottle was dangling precariously over his carpeting and Ikkaku was very close to grabbing for it. Renji took a shuddery breath, pulling himself together. “He said that after I left, he and his buddy drove to this other club and drank with some of the guy’s friends.”

Ikkaku raised an eyebrow. Don’t tell him Renji was getting jealous over this just _now._ Ichigo had been hanging out with this guy for months now and was probably the most trustworthy person on the planet. Renji knew that, and had obviously been completely secure in that knowledge until now - so what had changed?

“Then he made out with a guy in an elevator and gave him head,” Renji croaked, bringing his wrist up to his eyes and digging it in hard, the corners of his mouth going down. “. . . He wouldn’t tell me what happened after that, but he didn’t _need_ to,” he choked out, his voice becoming raw and choppy with anger. Ikkaku’s gut clenched up, because Renji's crying -  _gross._

More importantly, he doesn't buy that for a second. Ichigo's not that kind of guy.

Renji gave a long sniff and downed the rest of his beer, then dug both his wrists into his eyes. He gave a shaky watery laugh that made Ikkaku feel like throwing up, and then went on. “It makes sense too, because he didn’t come home until like _noon_ the next day, and he was really spaced out and distant and shit! He had a fucking _hangover.”_ Renji laughed again, blinking repeatedly and staring at nothing. “Wouldn’t look at me or talk to me or let me touch him, an’ now I know why. He was too guilty.”

Ikkaku ran that over in his head – sure, it sounded bad, but he just still couldn’t make it fit in his mind that Ichigo had been disloyal. It's not like he was there, and he had no one's word but Renji's, and it's not like he didn't _believe_ Renji, of course, but the guy was too personally invested to step back and look at the situation objectively. Renji loved Ichigo and was probably seeing things as worse than they were, getting himself heartbroke and jumping to conclusions. It's not like Renji was there either. 

It just didn't sound like Ichigo at all. Ikkaku knew the kid, and coming home the day after with a hangover - being  _silent_ during a hangover? - That wasn't him. 

“You know he ain’t like that after a hangover, Renji,” Ikkaku noted calmly. “He’s cranky as shit.” That alone was warning enough that something else was going on.

Renji didn’t want to hear that though – he was too distressed and had worked himself up now, nearing hysterics. “He kept saying that he didn’t know what happened or why he did it, but then he says he thinks he gave a guy _head!_ ” he wailed, sobbing once in frustration and grief. “He couldn’ta’ been lyin’ either – Ikkaku, he was _so fucking ashamed!"_   he blurted. "You shoulda’ seen his _face,"_ he spat, his expression a tumultuous mixture of rage and mourning.

Ikkaku isn't known for being the voice of reason in their group of friends, it was clear that he’d have to be it now, because Renji's a mess. "Renji," he tried to cut in, disturbed. He has a bad feeling, and he's pretty sure he's right about it. He just didn't know why Renji hadn't considered it too. Maybe the poor fool was in denial. Ikkaku didn’t really want to be the one to burst his bubble.

“I-I-I- I can’t stop fuckin’  _thinking_ about it,” Renji stuttered, staring wide-eyed at his hands and then clenching them around his head, “He… he, he _did that_ with another man! . . .” He got really choked up then and Ikkaku wanted to leave, but fuck, he couldn’t kick himself out of his own house. God damn, would Renji just _please_ try to stave off the waterworks? He hadn’t cried any tears yet, but he was just constantly on the verge, and it kind of made Ikkaku’s balls shrivel up, so could he just knock it off?

“We… we were gonna' wait until it felt right,” Renji said woefully, his voice dropping and becoming more watery. “We made a promise, and he just, he, he, he goes and breaks it like he doesn’t even care.”

Ikkaku sighed through his nostrils as Renji just kept pretty much talking to himself. Maybe if he let him cry himself out, he’d figure it out on his own. Renji would sorely regret saying all of this if Ikkaku turned out to be right. He hopes he's not.

“I trusted him, I. . . I- I-…” Renji’s mouth screwed up like he was an inch from bawling his eyes out. “He’s the one who gave me ambition and the motivation to change my life. He’s the one who made me decide to make something of myself. He gave me _hope_ back, and it was all a lie,” he ended in a wrenched whisper, eyes brimming with tears. Renji held himself like he felt dirty, still hunched over slightly.

That was a load of shit, because it wasn’t like Ichigo had somehow planned to do this from the beginning. Maybe it felt that way to Renji right now, but it was still a ridiculous thought.

“I mean, maybe _I_ did this,” Renji whined desperately, “Maybe I made him feel like I didn’t care, maybe he felt like I didn’t love him anymore… Maybe he stopped loving _me!_ ” He gripped the sides of his head, whispering horribly, “God, did I drive him away?” He turned to Ikkaku with horrified glistening eyes, still holding his ears, waiting for input.

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Ikkaku answered bluntly.

Renji sniffed then, grossly so, wiping his nose with his wrist, and then in a voice that was basically weeping, croaked out, “I think we split up. . . I think- I think it’s over between us for good. I think it’s too late.”

“And what, you’re askin’ me what I think? Whaddya’ want me ta’ do about it?”

“I _want_ you to be fuckin’ supportive!” Renji snapped, baring his teeth. Ikkaku grimaced and gave him a skeptical look. “I want ya’ ta’ say I should forgive ‘im and try ta’ win’m’ back from that scumbag, or that I should forget ‘im an’ move on! I want ya’ ta’ _care!”_

“What’s my care gonna’ solve if it’s too late, huh?”

“Gah, _Ikkaku,”_ Renji whined. He scrubbed at his entire face then with both hands, reddening his cheeks and his moist eyes even further. He sniffed again and blinked at the floor, then looked at Ikkaku, and fuck, Ikkaku grimaced and turned his face away, because god, what a mess.

He knew Renji had crawled here because he was big brother and big brother was supposed to be encouraging and knowledgeable, but Ikkaku wasn’t a miracle worker – his opinion had no bearing on the situation. Renji had to have some backbone. He knew the kid had it in him.

“You were right,” Renji muttered ashamedly, voice cracked and tortured. “This is b’cuz’ a’ _me_. I was payin’ so much attention ta’ Izuru an’ Hisagi that I neglected him.” Renji took a shuddery breath then, body seeming to slump even further, like it could collapse at any moment. “He works late an’ doesn’t get a lotta’ time at home – Maybe if I’d paid’m’ more attention during the hours he _was_ home he wouldn’ta’ done this.” His throat completely closed up at that point and he had to fucking cover his mouth with his fist because he was about to burst again.

When he’d gotten it back under control, he went on. “Bad shit happened to Izuru, _bad_ shit, an’ he an’ Hisagi fell apart, but do I learn from their mistakes an’ hang on tighter to what I have? No,” Renji growled at himself. Ikkaku stood by and listened, arms crossed.

 _“No ,_ when Izuru falls apart and Hisagi curses me out, I don’t learn anything, cuz’m’ a fuckin’ _retard._ I’m not thankful or grateful that Ichigo n’ I are doing alright, I’m busy focusing on _their_ problems. You were right, god, you were right,” he moaned.

“I coulda’ spent my time reminding him that I’m crazy about him, but _no,_ I just feel sorry for myself and play fuckin’ playstation, or nap, or go drinkin’ with _you_ guys. I don’t even say ‘I missed you’ when he gets home, I don’t make him dinner – sometimes I don’t even wait up for him! How the hell is he supposed to motivate himself at work when he knows he’s coming home to _that?!_ He probably thought I stopped loving him! Of _course_ he got lonely."

Ikkaku knew that Renji was grossly exaggerating his mistreatment and neglect of Ichigo, seeing as all Renji really talked about was Ichigo and places he’d taken him recently or nice things he’d done for him or funny things they’d said to each other. That being said, maybe Ikkaku had been wrong that Renji had kept up a sunny disposition after everything with Kira had happened. Maybe it had been hard on all of them, not just Hisagi. Renji had always just been better at putting on a smile and a brave face. He was a real shitty liar, but he was good at hiding his feelings.

“God, I’m a jerk. No wonder he doesn’t love me anymore,” Renji grumbled, wiping his eyes angrily.

“That’s bull. If Ichigo thought you were ignorin’m’ too much, he’d break your video games or something,” Ikkaku snorted. “That kid’s not subtle. He doesn’t just silently put up with shit.”

Renji sniffed. “What if I can’t win’m’ back, Ikkaku? What if it’s too late to make him want me again?... He was gonna’ marry me an’ now it’s over.” He swallowed, weeping bitterly, spinning the gold band on his finger over and over as he stared at the wall. “I can’t believe he did this. Was I bein’ that shitty that he just couldn’t stand me anymore?”

“Acting that way for _one week_   - and I don't even think you actually did - That wouldn’ta’ driven him into someone else’s arms without him sayin’ even a word to you about it beforehand. That’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard, and for all the things Ichigo is, he’s _not_ stupid.”

“Well it doesn’t matter. I think it’s over,” Renji muttered pitifully, sniffing and putting a hand over his eyes, lip wobbling like he couldn’t bear the prospect. “I think we’ve broken up and that it’s over.” He sobbed then, sniffling, absolutely pathetic. “God, what am I gonna’ do?”

“Stop,” Ikkaku said, waving a hand and furrowing his brow, eyes closed. “Just stop. You’re being ridiculous right now.”

 _“Ridiculous?!”_ Renji howled, body suddenly seized with energy, as if he’d latched onto the first chance he’d had of tossing his sadness to the wayside to be _angry_ instead. Thing was, Renji was so buzzed and pissed by now that he was doing that fucking stuttering thing that Ikkaku only heard when he was _really_ upset. “He’s the best thing in my- my _life,_ and he fuckin’- fuc- He cheats on me after how many years of trust and jus-just-j-“ Renji grew even more frustrated when he couldn’t talk, his voice choked by tears and fury. _“_ _He threw me away!”_ he finally screamed. “He _hurt_ me, and you’re just standing there telling me I’m being _ridiculous?!”_

“Fuck yeah, I am,” Ikkaku snapped, chin jutting out challengingly. “Pull yourself the fuck together. Just _stop.”_

Renji grew red with fury and looked like he was about to blow, but Ikkaku insisted again that he get a hold of himself, and Renji backed down. Ikkaku wasn’t a cruel man, and he truly didn’t like seeing his kouhai like this, even though he could be really annoying when he was happy. Shit, he hated to see Renji in pain. Somewhat awkwardly, Ikkaku cleared his throat and offered, “You wanna’ beer?”

 _“No,”_ Renji practically wailed in reply, sobbing once, helplessly so.

Ikkaku sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose when Renji kept crying over there. “Stop. Stop it.” Renji _did_ wail that time, howling that he _couldn’t_ stop, and he really was full on sobbing now. Yep, that was enough.

“Ya’ve gotta’,” Ikkaku insisted firmly. “Ya’d better stop feelin’ sorry for yourself _right now,_ Abarai. You knock this shit off.” Renji tried to reign it in, but he really couldn’t, his diaphragm having started to involuntarily hitch and force him to hiccup and sob and gasp. Ikkaku was reaching the limit of his patience. “Damn you, you _stop cryin’._ ” Renji sniffed and pulled his shirt collar up over his face, taking a few seconds to calm down under there and breathe and wipe his eyes, leaving two big wet smears in the fabric when he pulled it back down.

“However bad you feel right now, he’s gotta’ be feeling worse,” Ikkaku said more… he wouldn’t say _gently,_ but with less of a harsh inflection to his voice.

“He _should_ feel bad!” Renji snapped bitterly, eyes streaming. “He fucked another man! We built a life together – I gave my heart to him and he threw that away for one night of drunken sex! He treated me like I was nothing to him! Like- like _we_ meant nothing!”

“You’re not bein’ fair,” Ikkaku said flatly.

“Whatta’ _you_ know?! _Huh?!”_ Renji screamed, coming completely unhinged for a second despite just having regained his composure. Ikkaku knew better than to be baited by such a shitty emotional display. Renji wasn’t even really mad at _him,_  he's just betrayed and hurt. Besides, Renji had obviously come here seeking advice and support, and saying ‘what do _you_ know’ was literally nothing more than a reflexive lashout.

“I know a lot,” Ikkaku asserted calmly. “I know you’re so hurt that you’re not seein’ the bigger picture. You’re just bein’ rash an’ ya’ need ta’ cool it before ya’ say somethin’ you’ll really regret.”

“You don’t know anything! You don’t know how this feels! You don’t know how it’s like to love somebody more than anything and then lose them! _You don’t know that pain!”_ Renji howled, glaring at him. “You don’t know… how much this hurts.” His anger broke off into sobs again. Ikkaku just stared at him coolly as he bent over and cried into his palms. “H-how can he be feelin’ worse, huh?” he hollered, “when I feel like’m’ _dyin’!_ ”

“Pull yourself the fuck together,” Ikkaku said slowly, because Renji had reached the point of melodrama and that was just it for him. “That’s not fair. You’re not bein’ fair to yourself _or_ him. Or me for that matter – I can’t help ya’ when you’re not willin’ to take help.” Renji whimpered, taking shuddery breaths. “I know it must hurt, man, but get it together an’ think for a minute. You’re smart, aren’tcha’? So turn off the waterworks an’ just _think.”_

Renji swallowed and took a long shaky inhale, letting it out slowly. His face was wet and red with tears and snot, but he seemed past the point of caring. “Okay,” he rasped, blinking and looking at the ceiling. “Okay, what do I think about?”

“You know this ain't like Ichigo,” Ikkaku prompted. “So why the hell would he go an' do something like that. That don't make no _sense."_  

“What, are you sayin’ I wasn’t good enough for’m’? He got bored?” Renji croaked, “You don’t have to do this, I already-”

“I’m sayin’ why the hell are you so quick to buy that bullshit? You’re always the first person to be on his side no matter what, and you're gonna' look me in the face and tell me that when he says he got fucked up at a club, you don't smell a goddamn rat? The fuck’s that about, huh?” Renji sniffed, rubbing his nose with the back of his wrist, listening on with sad eyes. Ikkaku rolled a shoulder, grimacing. “C’mon, Kid, I thought you loved’m’, knew ‘im like tha’ back a’ yer’ hand, huh? So why don’tcha’ give ‘im a little more credit,” he scolded.

“Credit, huh,” Renji whispered in reply, not looking him in the eye. “Look, Ikkaku, he told me ta’ my face. There’s no way I woulda’ believed it from anyone ‘cause a’ those exact reasons, but it came from him. He told me ta’ my _face_ that he had sex with someone else. He told me right ta’ my face and the guilt was real. He couldn’t even look me in the eye. He did it.”

“ _Why_ though,” Ikkaku pressed, because that was the point that Renji was missing. “That doesn’t make a whit a’ sense. He ain't even doing that shit with you, so why's he gonna' go do it with a stranger - and besides, he hates drinking to the point, don't he? He doesn't get carried away like that. It don’t make any sense at all, Kid. You’re acceptin’ defeat too easy when ya’ know there’s some pieces that don’t fit. You’re too busy feelin’ betrayed.” Ikkaku gave Renji a long piercing look. "Didja’ even stop yellin’ at’m’ long enough ta’ ask why he did it?”

Renji was silent for a moment.

“No, huh?”

“He said he didn’t know why,” Renji said quietly then, looking at the floor and wiping his nose. “He tried ta’ apologize and kept sayin’ he didn’t know why he let it happen or why he did it . . . Said he just kinda’ went along with it and things happened . . . He sounded sorry at least.” Renji swallowed bitterly. “Still though, if he was so sorry, why’d he go an’ do it in the first place, huh? What, he don’t know why he did it? What kinda’ stupid excuse is _that?_ ” He sniffed. “Whoops, sorry I broke your heart, Renji, I don’t know why I did it, but I did. Here, take the pieces back and _you_ try ta’ fix ‘em, real sorry about that,” he growled to himself sarcastically.

“Knock it off. That’s not fair.”

“You keep sayin’ it’s not fair – how is not fair?” Renji hissed in exasperation. “Why is it not fair for me ta’ be upset? God, you’re being such a bastard ta’ me right now. How in the fuck is it not fair for me ta’ be hurt that my fiancé was disloyal?”

“Because all you’re thinkin’ about is yourself. You’re so pissed that you’re not thinking straight and you’re only seein’ whatcha’ wanna’ see.”

“Well what is it you’re seein’ that I’m not, since you know so much!” he snapped challengingly, and there it was.

Ikkaku folded his arms, staring him down coldly. Renji had asked for it, so here it fucking was.

“Ichigo was hanging out with those guys, and you _knew_ they were shifty, but you trusted him anyways,” he said, and Renji’s fists balled up and his mouth clamped shut as if he was about to scream, taking that statement as an attack. Ikkaku hadn’t said that to be cruel though, and hadn’t meant it was Renji’s fault this had happened. He went on to clarify before Renji gave himself an aneurism. “He'd never take advantage of that trust. Even if you say you don't even think about being jealous, that's some serious trust and it's nothing to spit at. He wouldn't have taken that lightly, left to his own devices."

Renji was silent, not seeing what he was getting at.

“You’ve said his friend’s a bad influence, but that it didn’t matter ‘cuz you knew that Ichigo could handle himself if it came to it. You knew he wouldn’t get carried away. You trusted’m’ to go out’n’ have fun.”

“Why wouldn’t I trust him?” Renji barked petulantly. “He didn’t mean harm by it. He’s allowed ta’ have friends that aren’t my friends!”

“You two had an unspoken promise going - and he wouldn't break that kind of promise willingly. So what the fuck does _that_ mean, huh?”

“What’re you tryin’a’ say,” Renji demanded, “Just come out an’ say it.”

Ikkaku got to the meat of it. “You trusted him to handle himself, but he _didn’t_ handle himself.”

“So what, I should feel bad just ‘cause he’s guilty that he had an affair?” Renji snarked, face falling more from hurt. “Why aren’t you on my side? I don’t understand you, Ikkaku.”

“You’re not listening,” Ikkaku said. “He didn’t have his guard up,” he said slowly, coming to the point, “an’m’ thinkin’ he got _got_ _."_

Renji sniffed and wiped his face again, eyebrows scrunching as he dully repeated, “Got…” sounding mildly suspicious.

Seeing that Renji just wasn’t getting it, Ikkaku sighed, because he hated to do this. Renji’s mouth moved like he was going to say something, but nothing came out. “It fits, doesn't it?” Ikkaku insisted. “Do you think it's possible?"

He’d been hoping Renji would catch on because he hadn’t wanted to say the actual word, but all the same, it sure didn’t feel good when the horrible recognition flashed over Renji’s face. Ikkaku nodded, satisfied. Renji understood now.

"Do you think that might be it?" Ikkaku wondered, because he's not infallible. He hadn't been there, he hadn't heard what Ichigo had said - but to him, it made more sense than Ichigo doing it because he'd  _wanted to.  
_

Renji must not have considered it before, because he was white as a sheet.  

“… That can’t be right.” Renji’s face scrunched in awful _awful_ sadness and sympathy, terror, grief, _guilt._ “No, that’s not…” He shook his head. “No, _no_.” He shook his head again in denial, taking a step back as if to put some distance between himself and Ikkaku’s words. “He woulda’ said. He woulda’ told me if that’s what happened. That’s not right.” He was trying to sound firm, but his sentences came out as uncertain questions.

“It coulda' happened. You know how he is about takin’ the blame for things,” Ikkaku said lowly, and Renji grabbed his stomach, looking around in panic like he was about to hurl. He put his other hand atop his head and his whole body convulsed, racked in silent unbreathing pain, a sudden sheen of sweat breaking out on his skin.

“No,” Renji gasped out, looking physically ill, “That’s not right.”

Ikkaku put a hand on his shoulder. That was as much comfort as he could give. Renji just stared at him, the horror still setting in and becoming worse and worse. His face looked like a ghoul’s mask, eyes drilling into Ikkaku’s as if begging him to say it wasn’t true. It was clear that the possibility had never occurred to Renji, and now that it had, he couldn’t bear to accept it. "At least check. I might be wrong, but at least check - because it fits, don't it."

 

“You’re not sayin’ that somebody,” Renji choked out, practically begging Ikkaku to deny it, “that someone _hurt_ ‘im… Not _Ichigo,_ that couldn’t-” Renji was in tears then, voice cracking horribly. “That couldn’t happen, right?”

Ikkaku’s voice was earnest then, a bit gentler, “Don't give up so quick. Go back an' talk to him.”

“Okay,” Renji said shakily. He swallowed hard and seemed to gather resolve with that. His cheeks were wet with tears, but his expression was under control. “Okay,” he repeated, sounding more determined. Ikkaku’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as Renji stepped back from him a little and turned towards the other part of the room.

Before Ikkaku could stop him – because everyone knows that texting or calling the lover while drunk was a shitty idea – Renji had pulled his phone out of his pocket and was dialing, no guesses as to who.

Shit, the kid was wasting no time. Ikkaku hadn’t meant right _now!_ Renji had to cool off first, before he did something rash! He'd meant he should walk home and talk in person!

“Hey, ya’ shouldn’t-” Ikkaku tried to stop him, but Renji fended him off with a forearm, at least having the decency to talk away from Ikkaku to keep _some_ semblance of privacy while they were still in the same room.

Ikkaku assumed that Ichigo had picked up on something like the first ring, but Renji didn’t even greet him, and wow, Ikkaku had been _so_ wrong in thinking that Renji had regained his cool. He was so far from keeping his cool that he’d pretty much taken its collar off and released it into the wild.

“Did you get roofied?” he accused, his voice sharp and angry, and Ichigo’s answer or _lack_ of answer must’ve been enough confirmation, because Renji’s entire body cringed, his expression becoming fierce for a moment and then defeated.

Ikkaku had half a mind to into the next room, but he didn’t trust Renji not to put his fist through the wall or something.

“So it’s true, huh,” Renji said with a bitter laugh. “This’s why you’ve been actin’ funny all week.”  Whatever Ichigo said seemed to break Renji completely, because he pretty much lost it.

He was in tears over the phone, practically screaming into the receiver, _“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?!”_ He was so far gone that he didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was crying. This horrible strangled noise came through his gritted teeth during the interval in which Ichigo responded. If he’d been a wreck before, he was a fifty-car pileup now. His cheeks were slick and red, his eyes furious, wild, and squinting.

 _"Fuck_ your pride, I don’t care if you were embarrassed!” he howled, and fuck, Ikkaku was close to swinging on him, because this son of a bitch had a pair a’ lungs. His neighbors were gonna’ be on his ass to the landlord about this. Renji was probably shorting out the streetlights outside – forget letting everybody in the goddamn building know all about his dirty laundry. “You suffer for a week an’ don’t tell me that- that   _it_  happened,just ‘cuz you were too _embarrassed?!_ What do you have to be embarrassed of, huh?! . . . No, you _shouldn’t,_ it's not like it was _your_ fault!”

Renji paused for about an instant to hear what Ichigo was saying to him, and fuck, Ikkaku could hear Ichigo getting loud too, which was better than him being all quiet and pitiful, he supposed. Shit, if it had happened to Ikkaku, he could guess he’d feel pretty humiliated too . . .

“What do you mean, ‘more careful?!’ You shouldn’t have _had_ to be careful, you were out with people you trusted!” Renji hollered, tears streaming down his cheeks and dripping off his chin.

Ichigo certainly wasn’t topping Renji’s volume, but he was shouting back, which wasn’t exactly a good thing, considering it didn’t make Renji lower his voice to be able to hear him – he just kept screaming into the phone and crying like someone had killed his firstborn.

“You shouldn’t have _had_ to watch your drinks! You were with _friends!_ No, fuck you, don’t you dare say you should’ve been more careful! Don’t you dare apologize! Don't say sorry to me!”

“God-damnit Abarai, keep it the fuck down,” Ikkaku hissed, but he might as well have been talking to his punching-bag. Hm . . . There was an idea.

“You let me think that you cheated on me!” he hollered, shouting in short bursts, his entire face red with fury, his cheeks slick with angry pained tears. “An’ this whole time- you’d- you’d been-! . . . And you just let me think that… that you’d done it ‘cause you  _wanted_ to! . . . _Why?!”_ Renji demanded, “Why, _why?!”_

Renji became enraged and disheartened by Ichigo’s reply, hardly able to speak through anger. “How can you _think_ that?! Don’t even- _No!_ No, Ichigo, no! That’s _not_ bein’ unfaithful! You had no control!” Whatever Ichigo replied didn’t seem to have been a satisfactory answer, because Renji broke down, sobbing harshly, his entire body shaking.

“Fuck you, Ichigo, you should’ve told me! Fuck you, fuck your- your fucking pride! You should’ve- _sh-should’ve t-to-hold me!”_ Renji bawled, and that was it, Ikkaku nailed him in the shoulder and knocked his phone out of his hand.

Renji tried to scramble for it but Ikkaku grabbed him – well, he attempted to. There was an awkward struggle in which Renji screamed ‘no’ and dropped his weight like a child throwing a temper tantrum. He clawed at Ikkaku’s arms, sobbing once in frustration, and eventually he broke free and snatched the phone up again.

“Are you still at home? Are you okay?!” Renji shouted into his cell, not even really waiting for a reply. He was fucking blubbering, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Ichigo – If I, if I hadn’t left that night, then you wouldn’t-wouldn’t’ve-”

Ichigo seemed to say something that made Renji pull himself together, because he began gasping and sniffling, wiping his eyes. He sobbed a couple more times, unable to stop, and then got it under control, whimpering a little as Ichigo talked to him for a few moments longer. “But if I hadn’t-” Renji almost burst into frustrated tears again, but he stopped when Ichigo said something else. “Y-. . . yeah,” he said quietly, giving a long sigh.

“Christ,” Ikkaku griped – seeing that the drama was all but over, he wandered into his kitchen, getting another water.

Renji was quiet for almost a full two minutes, only occasionally making noises of acknowledgement as Ichigo talked to him. Whatever he was saying seemed to have greatly calmed him down. Ikkaku stood staring at him for a little while, and then Renji finally reluctantly said, “Okay.”

Renji wiped his nose and eyes with his wrist, giving a long hard sniff. Ikkaku made a ‘bleh’ face, because _nasty._ Renji just stood there blinking blearily a couple times, and then spoke again. “Okay. . . I’m coming home soon. I’m…” He seemed ashamed then, his head hanging as he pushed his bandanna up a little.

“’M sorry, Ichigo. I didn’t mean what I said – I never woulda’ said that shit if I’d a’ known . . . I know, but it was still shitty. Even if you _had_ cheated, I shouldn’t have acted like that . . . Sorry I… y’know, stormed out. I was bein’ a total baby.” There was a longer pause when Ichigo said something and Renji’s lip quirked with the smallest saddest excuse for a smile, like the action was so painful that he could barely bring himself to do it. “Heh’, yeah . . .” He sniffed again, and fuck, the quiet was kind of unnerving after Renji’s screaming-fit. Was it always like this when these two fought? Them hollering at each other and then suddenly deciding to just shut up and listen to each other?

Eesh. Ikkaku was glad that he and Yumichika didn’t argue.

“Sorry I doubted you . . . No,” Renji mumbled, “No, I just stopped for liquor and then went to Ikkaku’s. I’m there right now.”

In the ensuing silence, Ikkaku could hear Ichigo shout something like, _‘I’ll kick your ass if you ever walk out on me again,’_ and he remembered that, shit, this was the first time anything like this had happened between them and definitely the first time Renji had walked out – Ichigo had probably been anxiously awaiting his return, maybe worrying that Renji was getting payback by making them ‘even’ and sleeping with a stranger.

Ikkaku could understand Ichigo’s concern if Renji had actually bailed and run out on him – not that he pried or had any interest in their relationship, but they didn’t exactly hide the fact that they argued nonstop. However, there was a sort of harmony in that fact. Those two shitheads just had constant shouting matches and immediately solved any problems that occurred between them – There was none of this sleeping on the couch, or walking out, or crashing at a friends’ place, or going to the bar and making out with a stranger because they were pissed. Ikkaku suspected this was the first time that they’d hit a real roadblock in their relationship.

Way to go off with a bang.

 _‘That was a real shitty thing to do, you loser!’_ Ikkaku could hear crisply as Ichigo got even louder, and Renji didn’t even pull the phone away from his face at all, despite the volume.

“Yeah, I know,” Renji replied sheepishly, his sad smile growing a little and becoming fond and apologetic. “’M sorry. . . Yeah, I won’t do that again.” He sniffed then, shifting his weight and standing up straighter, fixing his bandana again. “I mean, I’m not like Hisagi-senpai. It’s not gonna’ be like that with us, Ichigo, I swear. We’ll get through this together.”

There was a moment of tense silence then in which Ichigo didn’t seem to be saying anything either. Renji’s voice went really quiet and low, and Ikkaku suddenly felt like he was intruding upon something private, which was weird, because Renji had been _screaming_ their business for anyone to hear only a few minutes ago.

“Fuck baby, why didn’t you tell me?” Renji muttered softly, brow furrowed as he turned, his entire profile one of utter defeat. Ikkaku could see his grip on his phone tightening against his face. “. . . Did I make you feel like you _couldn’t?_ ”

Fuck though, listening to this was so awkward that Ikkaku felt literally _pained;_ hearing his kouhai calling his lover a sweet name was crossing the line – he hadn’t even known that those two _did_ that. This was a quiet gentle side of them that no one else saw, and Ikkaku knew that he shouldn’t be seeing it either. This was more information than he’d wanted.

 _“Why,_ why didn't you wanna' tell me? You know I wouldn’t a’ made fun of you,” Renji said so tenderly that Ikkaku felt a little nauseated. “… Aw, god Ichigo . . . No, don’t be embarrassed. This is _my_ fault.”

Ikkaku could hear Ichigo a little, meaning he was increasing in volume again. Renji’s back tensed and a frustrated breath left him as he gripped at the base of his ponytail, digging his nails into his scalp. “But if I hadn’t _left!_ Fuck, Ichigo, I’m so sorry. If I’d just stayed there, then…”

Ichigo said something more and then Renji sighed, giving way to a few more quiet moments. Ikkaku leaned backwards against his stove, his bum against the oven door handle. Couldn’t Renji have had this confrontation somewhere else without dragging him into it? I mean, Ikkaku felt bad about what happened, really he did, and he’d like to get his hands on whatever fucking punk-ass loser had done this, but it wasn’t his business, was it?

“Tell me what happened… Everything you can remember, tell me, please . . . No, I wanna’ hear.” Ikkaku tried not to look for the next expanse of silence, because Renji’s eyes were wide and staring off, gleaming with tears, his breath short and just barely moving in his throat, his face cycling between fixedly blank and quivering with emotion. Finally he nodded with a few unsteady exhales, fisting a hand in the flesh of his stomach and gritting his teeth. “…” He then put his hand over his eyes, breathing out a few more times. Ikkaku looked around for a trash can.

“Alright. Okay,” Renji breathed shakily. Ichigo seemed to be asking if he was alright because Renji sharply pulled himself together. “Yeah . . . No, it’s okay. You’re gonna’ be okay. You’re alright.” Renji swallowed and tried to calm his breathing a bit more. “Listen to me, this is really important,” he said, voice incredibly serious, expression hardening. “Do you remember the clothes you were wearin’ the night it happened? Everything, socks, shirt, underwear -  Where did you put ‘em? Do you remember what you did with’m’? Did you wash’m’, toss ‘em in the hamper?” Renji wiped his nose on the back of his hand. “. . .   No, that’s alright. How long ago did you throw them away? . . . Okay, that’s okay. No, don’t worry,” he assured when Ichigo replied. “No, don’t go get’m’, stay inside. I’ll get ‘em on my way back. Stay inside.”

An uncomfortable silence stretched for a few moments until Renji sniffed and calmly said with a gentle firmness, “Tell me who he was.” There was some silence and Renji sniffed again. “Who _they_ were,” he corrected through gritted teeth. “Who did it?… Ichigo, you can tell me.”

Ichigo probably adamantly refused then because Renji tensed up threateningly and pointed his finger like he was jabbing his boyfriend’s chest, although the effect was lost due to this being a phone call. Calming and reassuring Ichigo had wound Renji down, but talking about the culprits had rekindled his upset. “That’s all well an’ good, but I’m gonna’ _find out_ one way or another, so you might as well just-”

Ichigo must’ve said something because Renji halted, straightened up, and just breathed for a moment or two, just staring at the wall with this completely blank look on his face. “… I knew it,” he said in such a calm voice that it scared Ikkaku a little. What’s worse was that after Ichigo said something else, Renji snapped and shouted into the phone, going from deadly calm to enraged in a split second. _“I don’t care if there’s no proof!_ It’s enough that you an’ I know!”

Ichigo said something more that seemed to pacify Renji – at least for now, because Renji gave a sigh that was begrudging and frustrated. “Fine, fine. . .  Okay. . . Okay. . . Uh-huh. . . Yeah, I promise… for _now._ ”

Ikkaku could see that whatever fight between these two that had been doomed to happen had already just gone down. ‘Short continuous series of volcanic eruptions that cool and make the mountain bigger’ was probably the perfect way to describe their weird relationship. Eesh, Ikkaku was just glad Renji wasn’t _scream-_ crying anymore in his fucking living room.

“Alright, I’ll be home soon,” Renji said, voice going quiet and almost embarrassed as he glanced back at Ikkaku, hunching in slightly and clutching his phone to his face. The next words were completely pitiful, and Ikkaku wished he hadn’t heard them, but not as much as he wished he hadn’t heard Renji’s voice take on that small hurt tone.    “I love you.”

Ikkaku exhaled uncomfortably and Renji cringed, as that was probably exactly what he’d anticipated, but it was clear that he obviously hadn’t given much of a fuck if he’d still felt the need to remind Ichigo of that – it probably was an important thing to say to each other after such a traumatic event and then an explosive argument. It had been a rare and private moment that Ikkaku knows he's never going to have to witness again.

“Bye.” Renji hung up and straightened up with a long sigh. He sniffed one last time and rubbed at his eyes, which were dry now, but still raw and sticky, like the rest of his face.

“You were right – he was trying to tell me, but I got so messed up over it that he couldn't tell me the rest. He was too humiliated." Renji grimaced. "He told me as if it were his fault when really he only _‘went along with it’_ ‘cuz he was too blitzed to even stand up . . . You were right,” Renji said into the silence, not turning around yet, still scrubbing his face with his shirt.

 _“Fuck_ man,” Ikkaku muttered awkwardly. This was outside his expertise. It had been when it had happened to Kira, and this was even more so, because Kira Izuru was a man that you could offer comfort to. Kurosaki, not so much. The kid put up a strong front and didn’t want to accept help, perhaps because he usually didn’t really need it. Renji was on his own with this one - that's just how it's gonna' be.

“Wanna’ wash yer’ face?” Ikkaku offered, because Renji looked kind of horrible. Renji grunted in reply and wandered to his bathroom, and not long after, he could hear the sound of the sink running and some splashes. The door didn’t close, but Renji took a while in there after the water stopped and Ikkaku leaned around to check on him. He was just staring at the mirror, arms leaning on both sides of the basin. He’d fixed his hair and his bandanna was tied on better, but his eyes were red and the skin around them had been scrubbed completely raw.

“God, I can’t’ve let this happen… This is all down to me. You were right,” Renji whispered raspily, shaking his head and then leaning down to drink from the faucet. Ikkaku huffed and leaned in the doorway, kicking his friend right in the ass with one bare foot. Renji jolted and moved to the side, nearly having banged his head on the faucet.

“Don’t you go puttin’ words into my mouth,” Ikkaku said harshly. “You had nothin’a’ do with this, Kid,” he punctuated with a stern finger-point. “You know if they'd just jumped him, Ichigo coulda’ handled ’mself just fine.”

“I know that, and that’s exactly tha’ point. It wasn’t a fight. It was drugs. Ichigo had no idea what was even happenin’ - probably accepted one’a’ those blue drinks from someone. If I’d a’ been there with ‘im, that piece a’ shit would never have tried to slip him anything, ‘cause I woulda’ realized he was acting weird and then taken him away from there. I wouldn’ta’ let anything happen.” Renji gripped the sides of his head, glancing at himself in the mirror again before letting his eyes drop, chin dipping down as his elbows supported him above the sink. He stared at the drain glumly. “I’m a shitty boyfriend,” he whispered, so quietly that Ikkaku wouldn’t have heard it had it not echoed in the basin.

“You call this shitty? A shitty boyfriend wouldn't have cared this much!” Ikkaku snapped harshly, trying to jolt Renji out of it. He kicked Renji even harder than before, pretty much bowling him over. Renji stood up to avoid crashing to the ground, and swallowed hard, eyes closed. His expression was so full of self-hatred that Ikkaku felt like punching it right off. “Look at you tearin’ yourself up over this because a’ how much ya’ love ‘im! I don’t call that bein’ a shitty boyfriend!”

“But you see, I’m ta’ blame,” Renji croaked, straightening up and turning towards Ikkaku, who grabbed him by the collar and dragged him bodily out of the bathroom and threw him into the hallway. The thump of his body against the weak walls shook the complex’s foundation, but instead of getting ticked and fighting back like Ikkaku had half-hoped he’d do, Renji just braced his arm against the shitty plaster and stood there on wobbly legs, head bowed, shoulders quivering just slightly.

Ikkaku swore, if Renji started crying again, he was going to beat him to shit for it. He cuffed him around the head once and then shoved him hard between the shoulder blades to get him walking again towards the front-room, but Renji didn’t bite, just letting Ikkaku slap him around.

“No, you ain’t, fuckin’  _stop_ that.”

“It’s my fault this happened,” Renji muttered stubbornly, causing Ikkaku to give a long exasperated sigh.

“I don’t see how. If it ain’t Ichigo’s fault – _and it ain’t_ – then it ain’t your fault either. I swear, you two totally deserve each other,” Ikkaku grumbled, “Shitty blame-yourself retards.”

“I wasn’t the one ta’ hurt him, sure, but I coulda’ stopped it,” Renji rasped in a ghastly tone, far too quietly, far too resignedly. "If I hadn't left him alone there, I could've stopped it."

“You don’t know what coulda’ happened. Don’t think about _could have.”_ God, Ikkaku hated when people said shit like that; it was dumb as fuck to dwell on pointless shit like that. “Fuck ‘could have’ and deal with what really happened.” He pointed at Renji then. “You knock off this martyrdom-shit before I really make you a martyr an’ kill you right here.” Renji dug his hands into his hair and slammed his feet on the ground, an angry shriek escaping, which did nothing to deter Ikkaku. “Kid, you can’t beat yourself up for not bein’ able ta’ see the future. You didn’t know. It ain’t your fault it happened. Ichigo obviously doesn’t think it is.”

“Of course he doesn’t!” Renji said on a loud frustrated sigh. “He thinks it’s _his_ fault. He’d never in a million years think that this isn’t due to his own carelessness or somethin’, like it’s his fault he didn’t watch his drinks like a hawk the whole night while he was out with _friends._ He never coulda’ anticipated this!”

“And _neither could you.”_

Renji gave a long sigh then. “Maybe,” he said, going quiet for a moment, seeming to accept that, but not liking it.

“You don’t know what woulda’ happened,” Ikkaku repeated slowly and firmly, holding Renji by one shoulder and forcing him to sit down on the couch. He could see the poor guy’s legs shaking. Renji was holding his stomach now, and Ikkaku wouldn’t be surprised if he vomited in the next few hours. Now that Renji had stopped crying, it was time to be big brother. “I’m puttin’ some tea on. If you have ta’ throw up, try’n’ make it ta’ tha’ toilet. I’ll leave the door open.”

Renji made a noise of acknowledgement and tried to relax into the cushions while Ikkaku fooled around in the kitchen. As he boiled some water and got out a mint-tea mix that would settle any nausea, he kept a watch on Renji, who had his head sprawled back over the edge of the sofa and was staring at the ceiling.

He felt he should say something to make Renji stop looking like that, because he knew all the guy was doing was blaming himself. Goddamn it, these self-destructive stubborn types, Ikkaku would never understand . . . Well, if he imagined Yumichika in the same position, Ikkaku supposed that he might feel differently. Ikkaku didn’t know what lengths he might go to, the emotions he might feel.

“Ya’ can’t pin tha’ whole thing on the fact that you didn’t stay. You’re creditin’ yourself with havin’ more power over the situation than ya’ did. It was outta’ your control. It was up to those bastards deciding to do a fuckin’ nasty thing. It wasn’t down ta’ you leavin’,” Ikkaku said, because Renji needed to hear that, even if he didn’t want to believe it. “You might’ve decided ta’ go home when they switched clubs anyways. Ya’ might’ve lost Ichigo during the party. They might’ve even gotten you too. You can’t pin it on you.”

Renji threw his arm over his eyes with a long sigh, as if not looking at him was his last-ditch attempt at blocking him out. “If I’d stayed, then he would’ve been safe.”

“You don’t know that.”

“There would’ve been a _chance_ that-”

“So what if there was a chance. You didn’t know,” Ikkaku insisted. “There was no way you coulda’ seen that comin’, and Ichigo neither, so stop actin’ like you shoulda’ been able to see the future. Ichigo’ll kick your ass if he hears you talkin’ like that.”

“So what if he does. I’d deserve it,” came the haunted whisper. “He just stayed quiet an’ suffered for a whole _week_ an’ when the guilt finally eats him alive an’ he tries to tell me what happened, I throw it in his face and walk out. He _oughta’_ kick my ass for the shit I pulled.”

“He told you he’d cheated on you.”

“I shoulda’ realized though. You were right – that just ain’t like him. I shoulda’ seen.”

“Most people take others at their word when they’re told they were cheated on.” His words seemed to go right in and out of Renji’s ears.

“I shoulda’ known from how he was talkin’, Ikkaku,” Renji said sickly. “Man, he was almost _cryin’.”_ He bit his lip for a second, looking at the ground. “God, he looked like he felt so bad. If you’d a’ seen his face…” He frowned sadly. “He’s goin’ through all this confusion and guilt an’ tries to apologize to me, an’ it just turned into a screaming match 'cause I got so hurt. I walked out when he needed me the most . . . How can I make up for that, Ikkaku? How can that be forgiven?” He tossed a hand in the air and let it fall back down with a smack.

“Stop now,” Ikkaku said firmly. He wouldn’t allow Renji to torture himself on his watch. He’d done enough of that already. “Just sit quiet for a while.”

Renji went silent for a few moments, simply sitting there. He sniffed once and then got up to get some tissues from the washroom. Ikkaku could hear him blowing his nose in there and god, he sounded like a trumpet. He rolled his eyes as he poured some tea into a mug and then some for himself. “Get in here, Kid,” he said not unkindly, as he truly only called Renji ‘kid’ out of fondness. Ikkaku wasn’t one to pat people on the head or hug them or make cookies – that was how _moms_ comforted people, and Ikkaku wasn’t a mom. However, he _did_ feel like the designated big brother of their group, and little brothers cried sometimes and needed encouragement. He knew Renji could be a touch sensitive on certain matters because he had such a big heart, and while Ikkaku believed in tough love, he also knew that being too hard on Renji while he was hurt wasn’t the way to go. Renji was a strong man, but he cultivated that strength through the presence and care of the people he loved. Who was Ikkaku to mock something so nauseatingly touching?

Renji wandered in, blew his nose again, and collapsed in a heap on the couch. He blinked his eyes, which were a bit moist again, and sniffed, taking the steaming mug from Ikkaku’s hand and sipping a little. Ikkaku took a couple gulps of his own, squatting in front of the sofa and watching Renji attentively. He seemed to be doing better – he wasn’t doing that godawful _sobbing_ anymore, but he still looked completely miserable, now kind of stuck on it, just sitting there absolutely still, slumped against the sofa and glumly staring forward.

Ikkaku grabbed Renji’s knee and patted it, shaking it around a little. “C’mon,” he coaxed, “Get it together. Ya’ can’t let Ichigo see ya’ like this. He’s gonna’ need ta’ lean on you right now – he doesn’t wanna’ see this hot mess.”

“Heh’,” Renji laughed weakly, nodding a few times and taking a large swallow of tea.

“There ya’ go,” Ikkaku muttered as Renji pulled himself well and truly together. There was probably little danger of him crying again tonight, which Ikkaku was grateful for. God knew it was way easier to be supportive and comforting when the recipient wasn’t _crying_ – fuck. Ikkaku had reached his limit for the rest of this year with people’s tears.

“He told me what happened,” Renji mentioned, sounding less guilty and sad, more troubled, and a touch angry. Angry was good. Anger was strength. Anger, Ikkaku could deal with. With tears, you had to build someone up, but anger, it was a matter of talking them down – and usually out of doing something stupid, for that matter. That, Ikkaku was better equipped to deal with.

“Mm?” Ikkaku grunted, not exactly inviting Renji to share it with him, because it was a very private thing, but at the same time, not telling him _not_ to share, because he had a feeling Renji had to get this off his chest to somebody or he’d really destroy himself with it. Whenever he’d been out of his element before, he’d always been one to come to Ikkaku for advice or even just to hear his thoughts on the matter, really valuing his input and appreciating his stoic listening skills; he’d told Ikkaku first when he’d been planning to propose to Ichigo, after all – right after Rukia-chan.

That being said, Ikkaku wasn’t about to turn Renji down when he so desperately needed the support of someone older and wiser. However, if it weren’t for that reason, Ikkaku would’ve told Renji to keep this to himself, since it was a breach of Ichigo’s privacy – not that Ichigo had any reason to feel ashamed about what had been done to him, since it really had nothing to do with him at all. The ones who oughta’ be ashamed were whoever was involved in hurting him, and they shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it just because no one wanted to _talk_ about it.

“Yeah, he told me he was all spaced out an’ weak ‘n that he doesn’t actually remember exactly what happened. His explanation wasn’t clear at all,” Renji said lowly, obviously disturbed. Ikkaku was mildly queasy. Even in a situation where the victim was drugged and calm and unaware and the attack wasn't exactly _violent,_ it still _felt_ violent to him.

Renji’s voice was stronger now that he was actually talking about it, like the anger and hurt about what had been done to his partner was giving him the strength to face it. The initial shock and pain of it had just caused him to fall apart, but he’d gotten his shit together now; Ikkaku couldn’t blame a man for that. Zaraki always said you can’t blame a man for falling down if he keeps getting back up!

“Ichigo doesn't do drugs, so he didn't really put it together that he was high until the next day. He had no way of knowing. Anyway, once the effects started, he went upstairs to find his buddy – he wanted to find’m so that they could leave. He thought he was just sick an’ he didn’t want to stay… It got weird then. It’s like he was on a loop when he was explainin’. He couldn’t remember if he’d gone upstairs by himself or if he’d been taken there by someone . . . He remembers kissing someone at some point, or… they kissed him and he just went along with it, didn’t resist. There were stage lights… an elevator, a guy by a vending machine. Weird details.” Renji swallowed, closing his eyes and exhaling through his nose. Ikkaku didn’t say a word, just waiting patiently and drinking some more tea.

Renji clenched his glass in his hand as he went on, “He was in the dark, but there was a doorway nearby - he knows for sure he was still in the club ‘cause he could still hear the music. An' then he's lyin’ down, and he can see the doorway, people passin’ by, but he didn’t think to call for help.” He swallowed again, breathing slowly, his voice deceptively calm. Ikkaku's gut was clenching up something fierce, but he didn’t interrupt.  “While he was lyin’ there, someone made him give oral sex. He said he didn’t even try to struggle, he was too…” Renji shook his head. “He didn’t even try ta’ get away. He had no energy - like he wasn't even awake at all. He didn't even think about fighting.”

Ikkaku didn’t say a word. Just listening to it and imagining it made him feel like he was going to throw up if he so much as opened his mouth. Renji didn’t look much better.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, tattooed brow furrowing hard as he shook his head slightly. “Bright lights, warmth, voices and shit. Someone calling him. He said it didn't hurt. No pain, no pain at all. Felt like being in a tunnel fulla’ water. He could hear it goin’ on, an' see it sort of, but-”

“I don’t wanna’ hear this part,” Ikkaku interjected, and Renji didn’t seem to want to say it either.

“There were… _details,”_ Renji grit out, “Fuckin’ nasty shit they were sayin’. Mostly he wasn’t payin’ attention; he was too blitzed out. Still didn’t really feel like anything was wrong. He was really relaxed. Everythin’ was okay, he felt okay.” Renji gave a pained sigh, as if he felt there was grace in the fact that Ichigo hadn’t been distressed or hurting, but all the same, couldn’t bear that Ichigo had had to endure that humiliation.

“I don’t wanna’ hear this, Renji,” Ikkaku repeated more firmly. Renji said he was coming to the important part.

“When the effects got more intense and he was starting to black out a little, he kept hearing shit. Someone calling ‘hey, Ichigo’ over and over, calling and asking where he was, where the fuck he was – and he said he saw Jaegerjaquez a bunch of times during all this, throughout the entire thing. He didn’t get a real clear memory of anybody who did anything to him, but Jaegerjaquez is the one name he said.”

Ikkaku frowned. Renji smiled bitterly then.

“Even halfway delirious, there’s no mistaking that guy with his awful blue hair.”

“Hm.” Yeah, Ikkaku could see how a feature like that might stand out in one’s memory. The fact that someone had been calling Ichigo repeatedly was unsettling, especially since the explanation didn’t make it sound like it had simply been a matter of whoever had been assaulting him had been moaning his name. Someone had been looking for him while this had happened, maybe? Someone had been calling like they were trying to find him.

Ichigo didn’t clearly remember or recognize anyone who had done this, so either they’d been hiding their faces, or maybe they’d been strangers. It could just be a simple matter of not remembering. Who’d been calling Ichigo, though? It sounded like someone had been looking for him during that time; somebody had been worried as to his whereabouts.

Ikkaku frowned and mulled over the new information. Jaegerjaquez. . . That was the name that Ichigo had supposedly mentioned. He frowned deeper in thought, since that name sounded awfully familiar. It felt like he’d read it somewhere in this med-tech article something or other. Not only that, he could remember a few years back, he’d met a guy called _Jaggerjack_ briefly, who must be one in the same with Jaegerjaquez, considering the description of blue hair certainly matched, and how many people with a similar name would also have a similar hair color? Anyway, Ikkaku’s first impression of the guy was that he hadn’t seemed so bad. Cursed a lot, sure, very rude and blunt, violent perhaps, but he hadn’t come off as a genuinely bad person; perhaps an impulsive one who didn’t always run off of rationale. A man after Ikkaku’s own heart.

Not to mention– “Doesn’t Hisagi hang out with that guy sometimes?”

“Yeah,” Renji confirmed, expression determined and stony. He looked at Ikkaku really firmly then, as if to say, ‘I’ve made up my mind on this and you won’t change my opinion, but all the same, I’d like your approval.’

“I was hopin’ that you an’ I could go together to see him.” Ikkaku opened his mouth to say something, but Renji stopped him before he could refuse. “I know that Hisagi’s been a real jerk lately, and I wanted to let him stew and cool down for a while too.” Ikkaku closed his mouth hesitantly.

“I know he snubbed you and then slept with Yumichika to hurt you. I know it’s not just that, either. He did a lotta’ things to hurt both of us, and let’s not even get started on how he’s treated Izuru,” Renji said, now sounding coaxing, and Ikkaku was glad Renji wasn’t sugar-coating this, even though it wasn’t really as bad as all that. Hisagi hadn’t done it with Yumichika and hadn’t permanently ruined Ikkaku’s chances, so Ikkaku had gotten over that slight, but the matter of Izuru… that was enough for Ikkaku to hold a grudge, wasn’t it?

“But he’s still my senpai, Ikkaku, and we haven’t exactly been fair. We really haven’t made it easy for him to come back an’ apologize. You probably woulda’ tried to kill ‘im again.”

“What’s your point?” Ikkaku grumbled somewhat ashamedly.

“I _know_ you don’t wanna’ see him,” Renji said drawing his attention back. He pointed a hand over his shoulder then, shaking his head slightly with a short sigh. “But he’s the only person I know besides Ichigo who knows anything about that Jaegerjaquez - and I've gotta' find that guy.”

“Mm,” Ikkaku grunted, furrowing his brow. This was quite the problem.

“You understand, don’t you? I _gotta’_ take care’a’ this,” Renji insisted. “No matter what.”

Ikkaku respected that.

He nodded in acknowledgement of his point, a hand at his mouth as he thought it over. Renji awaited his answer, seeming to really value what he thought, even though it was clear he’d made his mind up – as he _should._ His devotion to Ichigo and finding out what had happened should be his top priority.

Ikkaku contemplated the situation carefully. Hisagi _had_ been a real shit-bag, but should Ichigo have to suffer for that? . . . They’d already gone through this before, hadn’t they, with Izuru? They’d let Izuru be the one to pay for their assholery. Well not this time.

“Senpai, I have _got_ to take care’a’ this,” Renji repeated earnestly, perhaps thinking Ikkaku was that adamant about not wanting to be around Hisagi and was unwilling to help. “Ichigo’s honor’s at stake.”

“Pff.”

“I’m gonna’ get ta’ tha’ _bottom_ a’ this, Ikkaku!”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Alright, alright. Ikkaku was big brother, and his little brothers were in trouble. Besides that, he wasn’t really busy or anything, despite it being kinda’ late at night. “I’ll come.”

“Thanks.” Renji blew his nose and stood up, downing the rest of his tea. Ikkaku left the mugs there on the floor and got a sweatshirt and shoes on. He would’ve liked to take a shower to get off all this nasty dry sweat, but that could wait. He just sprayed on some of that cologne and called it even.

    For now, they were on a manhunt.

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to hunt Hisagi down once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *busts in Hisagi's door* where's the rent motherfucker

  
After locking his house up, they made the three minute walk over to Roppongi Hills in silence.

Ikkaku didn’t exactly like walking around in the projects — mostly because ‘projects’ in this context didn’t mean shitty rundown buildings. No, Roppongi Hills was one of the largest integrated property developments in the country, and Ikkaku was unlucky enough to have landed an apartment between it and Tokyo Midtown. Roppongi Hills was a fully functional mini city that allowed its residents all the joys of having a workplace, residence, leisure-activities, hospital care — pretty much everything they’d need in order to never have to go back to the outside world if they didn’t want to.

Anyway, Ikkaku didn’t like going there. The place creeped him out — clean fancy places generally did that to him, although he suspected this place particularly bothered him because the times he’d been to Hisagi’s place… it was very empty and almost _eerily quiet_ without Kira there. In any case, he didn’t like the feeling he got when he was on the property. He felt like he didn’t belong there.

Renji seemed to feel the same if the way he was shoving his hands in his pockets was anything to go by. Neither of them really belonged here, actually. They’d each gotten past the periods of their lives in which they’d been piss-broke and ‘troubled,’ and could now walk free and afford nice things, but the past had a way of lingering. At times, Ikkaku still felt like a delinquent, he still keenly felt the eyes of the police on his back, he still felt guilty looking at katana in store windows. They say you can’t change who you are. Walking around in rich neighborhoods still put him on edge no matter how much he tried to bury his roots deep in the ground.

“Are we almost there?” Renji complained tensely. Ikkaku nodded. He was just as eager to get out of this place and back home.

He knew that Hisagi was staying in Residence C. They're lucky he's come here before, because the layout of the facilities was a veritable maze, nearly impossible for an outsider to navigate without a map. Ikkaku had to take Renji’s sleeve several times to keep him from getting lost in the sparse crowds and the complicated sets of winding sidewalks each time he stopped to ogle the Mori Tower for too long.

“I’ve only seen it from a distance before, gimme’ a break! Where’re we going anyways? Feels like we’re getting nowhere,” Renji grumped crankily when Ikkaku finally punched him and told him to focus on why they were here, not the scenery.

“That one,” Ikkaku said, pointing out one of the reddish brown buildings with its forty some floors. Renji whistled in appreciation of Hisagi’s nice digs. Ikkaku chuffed. Yeah, he didn’t know _how_ Hisagi was affording this. These residential apartments were fucking _expensive_ and totally not affordable on a mechanic’s salary. Maybe he was still living off the money he’d gotten from his time as an editor — a couple of those papers had been published to huge success.

Renji hadn’t been over to Hisagi’s new place before — he’d gone to visit Hisagi before, sure, but that had been back when he and Izuru had lived together like two peas in a pod in that beautiful home of theirs. After their relationship had started to fall apart, they’d both gotten new apartments. Hisagi was living in a really nice area now — Roppongi hills was nothing to sneeze at — while Kira was holed up in a drab housing unit.

Needless to say, when they got to the gate of the apartment complexes, Renji stood there awkwardly while Ikkaku waited behind him with his arms crossed. It took a moment for it to register when Renji looked back to him in uncertainty that the kid didn’t know what to do. Ikkaku huffed and pushed past him to press a button on the wall-mounted intercom unit that was next to Hisagi’s room number.

Renji stood silently, hands folded behind his back as he rocked forward and back. He was the one jittering now while Ikkaku was cool as a cucumber. After about thirty seconds of silence, Renji muttered, “What are we supposed to do? Will he come to the door?”

“Shit, he’s supposed to buzz us in,” Ikkaku grumbled, pressing the button again insistently. Even though he knew full well that it could be a simple matter of Hisagi just being asleep, he's getting fed up. "He won't let us up, that loser. He must know it's us."

“No, _nooo,”_ Renji moaned hopelessly. “What do we do now?”

“Try again.”

Renji tried pressing the button too, but no one was opening the door or even asking them who they were or what their business was there with the intercom. Hisagi had a unit in his room and should be able to come answer it. It was getting to be sort of late at night, but c'mon.

Renji made a frustrated sound, growing desperate and pacing back and forth. “Cool it,” Ikkaku said. “It’s better if you don’t get involved anyways. I bet Ichigo told you to leave it alone anyway, didn’t he.”

“So what?! I’m not letting those fuckin’ _rapists_ get away with this!” Renji snapped, causing Ikkaku to sigh and shush him. “Don’t shush me! I have the name of one of ‘em and I’m going to do whatever I can to make him pay! I’ll make him _pay_ for this, you hear me?!”

 _“Yeah,_ I hear ya’, pipe tha’ fuck down.”

“I’m gonna’ make him pay,” Renji repeated petulantly, grumbling.

“Do you get to decide that?” Ikkaku challenged coolly. “It’s Ichigo’s choice about what to do. It sounded like he really wanted you ta’ get home to him.”

Renji looked tortured then at the thought of his poor lover all alone at home without him there to comfort him. “Don’t do this to me, Senpai, you know I have to do this.”

“Well there’s fuck-all we can do without gettin’ arrested if Hisagi ain’t gonna’ let us up.”

 _“Fuck!”_ Renji swore, kicking the wall and starting to pace again. “Why is he mad at _me?_ What did _I_ do? He just- he curses me out at the club when I try ta’ talk sense into him and now he doesn’t even wanna’ talk to me? _I_ should be the one mad at _him!”_

“Whatever, he’s been bein’ a jerk for a while now. Lower your standards and you won’t be so surprised anymore.”

“Why are you so calm?!” Renji didn’t halt in his pacing even a bit, just glaring at him as he walked one way and then the other like a caged tiger.

“‘Cause Ichigo’s strong, and he’s a grown man,” Ikkaku said flatly. “Ya’ gotta’ let him fight his own battles.”

“You don’t know shit, Ikkaku, that’s not what partnership is about,” Renji growled.

“That’s just an excuse.”

“It’s the _truth!”_

“Maybe it is, but you’re usin’ it as an excuse.”

Just then a tall woman in a flight-attendant outfit walked briskly up to them, shoulders hunched up like she’d had to work up some nerve to do so, and then used her room key to get in. She lived here, obviously.

‘Heh. They didn’t need Hisagi after all. They're home free.

“Hey lady, can you let us in?” Ikkaku asked bluntly, and she startled. Now that he was looking at her closer, she reminded him of a mouse, all jumpy and with such big dark eyes, fluffy hair — it looked like he’d surprised her into silence, because she wasn’t responding. Renji glanced to Ikkaku worriedly and then tried himself.

Check that, they were home free as long as Ikkaku didn’t use his scary resting expression and make her think they were going to attack her.

They _had_ kind of just been shouting at each other and kicking stuff and what not — a rather intimidating thing to walk up to when you were probably a hundred pounds lighter. Staring at her like this just seemed to spook her even more, so he stopped.

“Yes, please help us inside,” Renji asked nicely with an anxious smile, “We need to see our friend. He’s very sick. Probably sleeping. He won’t buzz us in. We only want to check on him. Please help us get in.” Ikkaku felt like snorting at the lie, but didn’t blow Renji’s cover, just watching the guy tug on his hair like he usually did when trying to lie. He's especially was bad at lying to women — probably something to do with that scary Rukia lady.

“Oh,” she said very shyly. She stood straight as an arrow and put her hands to her lap like she was still on duty.“How lucky he is to have such nice friends. I’ll help you get to the elevator.”

“Thank you, thank you so much,” Renji gushed in relief, and Ikkaku had to drag the guy along through the doors with him to stop him from wasting time with bowing or some shit. The girl led them over to the elevator and then waved to them, wishing them luck and their friend good health. Renji said thank you again and Ikkaku nodded his head to her.

“Which floor is he on?” Renji asked, seeming excited that they were getting somewhere, having almost lost hope before.

“Ten.” Renji pressed the button and they both stood in silence until the door opened with a ding. They wandered out into the hallway and Ikkaku led them to the door to Hisagi’s unit.

“He’s not gonna’ wanna’ talk if he sees me here. He hates you less than me. You go in,” Ikkaku said. “And if he doesn’t let you in, then-" He cracked his knuckles ominously. “We’ll convince him.”

Renji gave him a stern look then. _“No fighting,_ Ikkaku-senpai. He might not tell me what I need to know if you hit him.”

“Yeah, he won’t be able to talk with no teeth.”

“No, _really,_ _”_ Renji insisted, “No fighting, Ikkaku, _please._ Just try not to talk to him at all, okay? He won’t want to talk to me as it is, and he definitely won’t if you’re saying shit to provoke him. _I really need this,_ so please, if you care about me or Ichigo at all, just don’t say anything.” Damnit, the kid had screwed him with that one. Ikkaku clammed up with a grimace.

“You’ll make him defensive if you start to yell and be mean,” Renji said in response to Ikkaku’s silence.

“Yeah, he’ll get all butthurt again. If he gets his butt hurt anymore, he’ll need a transplant.”

“Not funny,” Renji sighed as he knocked on the door. Surprise, surprise, there was no answer.

Ikkaku was pretty irked by that point. What a pathetic bitter son of a bitch. First he causes all this trouble and then goes and hides away like a fucking coward. What an absolute _bastard._

Renji knocked again, harder, “C’mon, Hisagi-senpai, open up, it’s me.” Still no answer.

     Okay, Ikkaku's fucking had _enough._

He pushed Renji aside and hammered on the door, shaking it on its hinges. “Oi! Hisagi!” he shouted, “We know you’re in there, you shitbag!”

“Ikkaku, shh!” Renji shushed frantically like he was afraid they’d get in trouble. Someone walked past them to get to their own room, and Renji shook Ikkaku in a panic to make him shut up. Ah yes, Renji the rule-follower. Ikkaku's not as concerned, even though he probably should be, considering he's on parole and Renji's not, but really, what's was the worst that could happen though, huh? They get kicked outta’ the building? So what.

“He’s not here,” came an incredibly bland voice, and they both paused and looked to the side to see a man in a lab coat with a stack of books and a coffee on top opening his apartment door with the key. He was incredibly sleep-deprived, had black hair, and no eyebrows, strangely enough, along with these weird little bumps on his forehead, like horns, almost.

The man nodded towards them, and they both looked down, only to see a stack of mail that had been stuffed under the door.

“He’s been gone for like a week. Breaking the door in won’t help — he’s not in there. Please quiet down, shitheads,” the body-mods guy said as he shut himself inside his room and left them alone.

“Aaaagggh,” Renji moaned, pulling his eye sockets down as Ikkaku just stood at his side with a mild expression. _“Now_ what?”

    The trail had gone cold, it seemed. Hisagi was nowhere to be found.    Well. . . that wasn’t true exactly.

“Dude, just get Jaegerjaquez’s number from Ichigo’s phone.” That was Ichigo’s buddy who’d been hanging out with him so much lately, and likely one of his attackers. It was a sure thing that Ichigo had the guy's contact info in his cell if Renji would just get it that way. They didn’t need Hisagi anyways, the dick.

“No,” Renji sighed somewhat frustratedly. “He doesn’t want me to get involved in this or go beat that sicko up. Says there’s not enough proof that it was him.” He shook his head then, brow furrowing deeply. “He doesn’t wanna’ believe it anyway. Jaegerjaquez’s the one that he went to the party with, and he’s still holding out that that guy wouldn’t do that to him.”

Renji shrugged with a dark glare. _“I_ still think it was him. Ichigo’s too nice of a guy to want to admit that one of his friends would do something that rotten to him. He’s too forgiving. He can’t see what’s right in front of him, because he doesn’t want to, but _I_ see it. It was Jaegerjaquez, it has to be.”

“If _Ichigo_ has no real evidence that it’s him, what evidence do _you_ have?” Ikkaku wondered skeptically. “I’m thinking you should stay outta’ this one, man.”

“I don’t care. It was him, and I’m gonna’ make sure he gets what he deserves.”

“Alright, so what proof do you have?” Ikkaku challenged.

“I’ve caught him lookin’ at Ichigo funny a couples times. Like, I know he has a crush on him, but I figured that if he ever made a move, Ichigo could handle himself and let him down easy, so I didn’t worry about it. Plus it's not like I can tell Ichigo who he can hang out with — doesn’t mean I didn’t know Jaegerjaquez  _wanted_ him.”

“I think this is hindsight bias, Kid. If you knew this, I’m having a hard time believing you woulda’ just let Ichigo do his thing. You weren’t even a _little jealous?_ ”

“Ichigo loves me,” he said, as if it was the argument to end all arguments.

“Doesn’t stop people from being possessive and worried that what they have will be stolen,” Ikkaku pointed out. “This guy wanted him and you knew that, but you still didn’t feel like you had to tell him to fuck off and stay away from Ichigo?”

“Ichigo’s his own person. Point is, Jaegerjaquez did this, there’s no doubt. He’s probably been waiting for an opportunity this entire time, and then I _left_ and gave him his opening,” Renji said bitterly.

“You couldn’t have known.”

“So what.”

Ikkaku sighed. He was never going to convince this guy that he hadn’t had a hand in this — at least not while the wounds were still fresh. “They’ve been alone without you a bunch before, right?”

“So what?! I know it was him!” Renji insisted furiously.

“So _go through Ichigo’s phone and get the number then,”_ Ikkaku repeated leadingly, because this was a very simple fix. If Renji was going to keep up with this stupid mission of his, then the least he could do was make it easy for himself.

Renji shook his head adamantly. “I’m not gonna’ look through Ichigo’s phone,” he sighed with an eyeroll.

Ikkaku rolled his eyes right back. “Softie.”

“Hey, _hey._ Trust is trust.” Renji put a fist to his mouth then as they wandered back to the elevator, since there was no point hanging around here if Hisagi wasn’t in. “I just gotta’ figure my own way out on how to find that bitch!” He made a chopping motion then by slapping one hand into the other, “And then I’m gonna’ cut his fucking dick off! I’ll cut _all_ their dicks off!”

Ikkaku grimaced somewhat skeptically as they got into the elevator. “I think you’re kidding. It’s painful as a man, right?”

Renji was vehement and definitely _not kidding._ That was what Ikkaku was worried about. “You think I’m kidding but I’m totally not. I’m gonna’ _cut that sucker off._ ”

Ikkaku sighed and groaned, letting his head roll back on his shoulders as they got off on the ground floor and walked back out onto the street. “Look,” he said then with a grimace, as he could tell that Renji was a little antsy again now that the trail had gone cold, seemingly, “I don't like this, but I can see that this is really gettin’a’ you — plus I owe you for bein’ supportive about Yumichika. So I’m gonna’ help you.”

Renji looked up in confusion and slight hope, and damn, there was that ‘senpai-can-fix-anything’ face. Ikkaku hated when he did that.

    “I know something else we can try,” Ikkaku concluded.

“What?” Renji asked anxiously, following him and hovering at his shoulder as Ikkaku jammed his hands in his pockets and walked off.

He wasn’t sure if he should do this, because Renji was in a rash state and who knows what he might do if he really got his hands on Jaegerjaquez’s whereabouts, but at the same time, Ikkaku thought it was really important for Renji to have closure. The last thing he wants is for him to end up like Hisagi. It wasn't that far-fetched. The circumstances were eerily similar, in fact.

“What, what is it? Tell me, c’mon, Ikkaku, tell me,” Renji urged.

With a sigh — because he didn’t want to do this but could see that it was important to his kouhai and that he’d have to put aside his reservations in the name of the greater good — Ikkaku divulged the details. “Hisagi’s contact information is at the garage somewhere,” he explained. “He has to give that to Zaraki even if he hasn’t come in to work. It’s policy.”

Renji listened on avidly. Ikkaku went on, “He disconnected the phone line, but he probably made another or has an email or something, a new mailing address that he’s given to Zaraki so that he can be contacted — he _has_ to do that. Wherever he is, that information is written down somewhere. We can just go find it.”

“Wh- Oh my god, that’s. . .” Renji’s expression grew suspicious and accusing then. “Wait, why didn’t you mention this before?" Ikkaku drew his mouth in a flat line and in utter disbelief and irritation, Renji gave an exasperated huff.

"Have you seriously known that this whole time? Ikkaku, what the fuck, it's been _weeks._ You could’ve said that _weeks_ ago.”

Ikkaku shrugged. “I didn’t care that he wasn’t coming in to work. Whether he does or not is his decision.” Renji groaned slightly but Ikkaku talked over him, because he didn’t go back on his decisions, especially not this one. “Hey, Hisagi’s been a real _shit_ lately, a’right? And I don’t really care if he won’t show his face. It’s not my job to chase after him.” He raised a hand then, grimacing in slight disgust, “If he’s gonna’ act like a bitch and hide, then fine.”

He looked to Renji then, expression growing less harsh. “I don’t wanna’ see him. I’m still pissed.” Ikkaku then begrudgingly admitted, “But you need this. So we’ll go an' we’ll do.”

Renji looked like he was getting choked up again or about to _hug_ him or something so Ikkaku shoved him a little. “We goin’ to the train station or what,” he grumbled, forget that it was eleven o’ clock now. Renji broke out into a smile then and nodded.

They got to the warehouse at about eleven thirty, Renji still pretty much breathing down his neck as Ikkaku opened the door. Kidd paused in what he was doing to look at them in confusion. Killer just kept welding, not even noticing them.

“The fuck’re you two doin’ back here?” Usually the two shifts didn’t run into each other, so of course they were surprised to see the two of them. He and Renji just ignored him, which wasn’t the best course of action, since one does not simply _ignore_ Eustass Kidd.

“Oi!”

“Not now,” Ikkaku said as he took a string of keys off the wall and rifled through it to find the one that opened the door to Kenpachi’s office.

“I’m fixin’ up yer’ piece-a’-shit bike, bastard! I told you not to take it out — ‘Ts like a hunderd’ times worse now! Come take a look!” Kidd demanded. Ikkaku shook his head.

“Some other time, sorry man.”

“Whatever.”

Renji was bouncing around nervously, waiting for Ikkaku to get the door open. When he did, he practically shoved through into the small space, fitting himself behind Kenpachi’s metal desk and trying to share the area with the rolling chair that was wedged in there.

The room was packed with boxes of parts, filing cabinets, and documents. Ikkaku stood in the doorway and pointed to the cabinet next to the desk. That’s where the employee records were, if he remembered. Kenpachi's had him look through the prison records of a few of their past volunteer workers before, and they’d been stored there.

“Check that drawer.”

Renji had to step on the seat of the chair carefully and get the side of his bum on the desk in order to get enough room to reach for the handle. He pulled the heavy drawer out slowly until it hit him in the stomach.

“The current one’s’ll be in the front.” Ikkaku noted, standing there with his hands in his pockets. Renji rifled through and pulled out the folder for the current employees.

“You’re right, there’s a change of address notice in here,” Renji muttered, twisting his body sideways to lay down the piece of paper on the cluttered desk and show Ikkaku.

Ikkaku just stood there, arms crossed, face set in a heavy scowl as Renji read it over. Renji’s expression grew dark and sour too. “I might’ve known,” he bit out, eyes glaring at the paper in frustration. 

Ikkaku looked back as Kidd called him again, and then leaned against the doorframe. He watched on as Renji shook his head slowly. “He’s stayin’ with that Kensei guy again,” he noted as he leaned back and plopped down in the chair, putting his hands on either side of his nose and using his fingertips to dig into his eyes. “Guuuhhhh.”

Ikkaku could admit that they probably should have expected that. Hisagi had stayed with Muguruma for a few weeks when he and Kira had first broken up. He was something like the guy’s adopted older brother — that was to say that Hisagi had been taken in by him for a time when he’d been younger. Hisagi practically _idolized_ the guy. They should’ve guessed that he was holed up there with Muguruma, slacking off.

“Ah geez, that guy’s really aggressive,” Renji moaned, slapping the file down onto the table with a huff. “I don’t wanna’ go there.”

“Where is it anyways?”

“It’s in Minato. Pretty close to your place, actually. We gotta’ take another train,” Renji said on a sigh. “Back to where we started." Ikkaku was _not_ happy about that. So Hisagi hadn’t even ventured that far from home, huh?

Whatever, Ikkaku was beyond the point of anger. He’d pretty much completely embittered himself towards Hisagi at this point. It was Muguruma he was interested in; he wasn’t known for being a bloom of kindness, exactly. “You wanna’ go see the ‘aggressive guy’ at this time a’ night? Yeah, that’ll make’m _not_ wanna’ rip ya’ ta’ shreds.”

“What, do _you_ wanna’ deal with that guy when he’s angry?!” Renji challenged snippily, obviously frustrated and exhausted. “He’s a goddamn professional  _boxer!”_ Ikkaku shrugged.

“What happens, happens. Yer’ ol’ senpai here ain’t made a’ glass anyhow.”

“What if he _‘breaks your bones,'_   huh? What then?” came the heated and exasperated challenge along with a clear sarcastic jab at Ikkaku’s frequent habit of saying a similar thing. He didn’t rise to it, because he knew the little brat was just going through a lot of shit and was teetering on the edge.

“You’re not exack’ly a toothpick either, Kid,” he reminded. “We’ll be fine.”

“Well I-” Renji paused then, freezing in whatever bitter retort he’d been about to hurl. His cheeks actually flushed a little bit; he seemed to have appreciated the backwards compliment, which made Ikkaku roll his eyes and suck his teeth. “Whatever, let’s just get goin’,” Renji muttered hurriedly, eyes on the door as he shoved past Ikkaku.

“Oi, grab a beer before ya’ go, boneheads!” Kidd called with the entirety of his usual obnoxious volume.

“Sorry, no,” Renji replied, already out the door. Ikkaku hung around for that beer however, slugging half and then stowing the rest in the mini fridge.

Kidd actually paused and watched him go. He looked from the door to Ikkaku, as if awaiting an explanation. It's not a big mystery as to why. Renji was always so damn cheerful, and all the guys were on him about it. It had to be strange, to see him so dismissive — the truth is, he's still pretty pale in the face too. 

“What’s eatin’ lil’ red?” Ah yes, because although the both of them had equally red hair and even though Renji was actually a pretty fit guy, he was definitely ‘little’ to someone like Eustass Kidd.

Meanwhile, there was no time, and Kidd had no business poking his ugly face into things. On top of that, it was less like something was eating at Renji and more like somebody else was fit to be eaten _by_ him, if the vengeful state of mind he'd set himself to was any indication.

“Who knows,” Ikkaku replied bluntly.

“Yas’ gonna’ lemme’ know w’tha’ fuck’s been goin’ on with you lot?” Kidd demanded with a sneer. Ikkaku shrugged and dug a finger in his ear, checking under his pinkie nail after withdrawing it, and then flicking some earwax.

“Later,” he said as he walked off.

“Ya’d better!”

“I will, shut yer’ gob.”

Renji was pacing wildly outside, and the moment Ikkaku passed the threshold and let the heavy door slam behind him, Renji came to a stop, looking at him with an anticipatory expression. Ikkaku nodded and followed after him with his hands in his pockets, heading back to the train station again.

Watching Renji’s ponytail bob in front of him, Ikkaku thought absentmindedly that the kid was gonna’ have a long night. It was another forty-five minutes back to Minato, then probably a twenty minute search, find, and divulge rendezvous with Hisagi and Kensei, and then Renji would have another fifteen minute ride home, at which point, he’d probably have a long talk with Ichigo.

Ikkaku could tell the stress was already wearing on him, the deep-set lines creasing his brow and mouth giving it away. For all the whining and shittalk that Ikkaku flung when Renji gloated about how great his life was, he really would prefer that over seeing the kid down in the dumps like this. He didn’t wish misfortune on Renji — it was safe to say the guy was his best friend, and seeing such a cheerful goofball get so quiet and troubled was deeply disturbing to Ikkaku’s inner sense of order. His philosophy on ‘the-way-things-are-and-should-be’ didn’t include an unhappy Renji. It was the one with the dumb grin and the cheesy puns, not the stuttering mess or the sad kicked puppy with the hanging head.  
  


    They went back to the station and boarded yet another late-night train, one that was nearly empty already.

Settling in on a bench with Renji scooting in beside him, Ikkaku propped his right leg up on the left, his thigh wedged against Renji’s. He resigned himself to a long boring ride in the peace and quiet — not so bad; he could use a little rest. Contrary to what one might think, Ikkaku could be quite the lazy bum and wasn’t prone to having late nights if they weren’t filled with alcohol.

Renji thankfully didn’t try for conversation and just sat still. Ikkaku would’ve hated to’ve had to clobber him in public like that, although he would’ve totally understood the cause for his fidgeting. Ikkaku got Renji’s concern and woe, but there was no sense stressing about it now. What’s done was done and Ichigo was waiting at home. He’d be with him soon, they’d get to Hisagi sooner, and everything would be taken care of. Until then, there was no point in losing hair over it, if you’d pardon the expression.

By that time it was pretty late — around midnight by Ikkaku’s reckoning. They were encased in darkness and quiet. It was a comforting callback to his younger days, traveling home from school.

Ikkaku thought of Yumichika in passing as the train lulled him into a familiar daze. He wondered if Yumichika was asleep, peacefully dreaming in the night somewhere. It was quite a nice thought. What was Yumichika dreaming about? Maybe a forest.

Ikkaku would walk into the woods in the darkness. A bird would call harshly and he’d look up to the branch where it was sitting. He and the crow would hold eye contact for a moment. He’d try to get closer, but it would fly away. He’d follow and follow through the ominous trees, and each time, the bird would hop away, just out of reach. He’d get closer with every attempt, but that damn crow and its coy little feather-flip just kept fluttering off onto the branch and cawing at him, telling him to keep on trying. Yumichika's only a little ways off, if he can just get to that bird. When Ikkaku finds him, he'll be there to embrace him and tell him he’d missed him so. And once he made it into his arms-

Renji’s phone _pinged_ against his thigh, startling him and buzzing Ikkaku awake, since they were touching right there. Ikkaku snorted sleepily and sat up a little straighter, wiping his eyes, his dream already fading but for the piercing gaze of the bird; _a bad omen._

Renji whipped his phone out and quickly checked it, then accepted the call and put it up to his ear. Talking on the phone wasn’t allowed inside the train, but it was late enough that he was clearly going to risk it for Ichigo’s sake — his voice was still lowered out of consideration for the few people on the other end of the car.

“I’m here, are you okay?” Renji said immediately, not even greeting him in his hurry. Ikkaku put one arm up on the back of the bench and rested his head there as he absently looked out the window. Given that they're sitting right next to each other, trying not to overhear Renji's conversation was impossible.

Ikkaku just focused on the sound of his breathing and the low hum of Renji's voice, struggling to keep his eyes open. Being on the train in the night always made him feel like he was being rocked to sleep. Renji’s slight movements bumped his thigh a little and momentarily awoke him again. “Yeah, I know, babe,” Renji said softly. “I’m sorry.”

The train played a message overhead about which stop was next, and a few of the people got up and moved closer to the doors. Others slept on, slumped in their chairs.

“I’m with Ikkaku right now, I swear. I just gotta’ take care a’ something, okay?” Renji bit his lip, perhaps thinking back to what Ikkaku had said earlier about how Ichigo probably would much rather have him at home than out searching for revenge. Ikkaku imagined that a guy would need to be comforted after something like that.

“I promise I’ll be home tonight, please just hang on for a while longer,” Renji said quietly, and Ikkaku suspected that even if they weren’t on a train car at night where there were others around him that shouldn’t be disturbed from their rest, Renji still would’ve spoken that gently.

“I’ll be with you before you know it,” he mumbled with a slight smile. There was a pause and Ikkaku watched as Renji flushed pink. “. . . Heh’, yeah.” He smiled a little more. “See you soon. Keep the door locked until I come back.”

Ikkaku vaguely noted that he’d never heard the two have such a tender conversation. It was usually strong-toned, speckled with insults and jibes, _and much louder,_ but Renji was being decidedly gentle, which was only fitting given the situation. If Ikkaku were any more awake, however, he'd likely be really uncomfortable, because that tenderness was something private that he wasn't supposed to hear.

“Please don’t argue. Just do as I say.” It didn’t sound like a demand at all, more like a plea, nearly a whisper.

Ikkaku closed his eyes and let his head flop back. He was so sleepy and comfortable. He just had to rest his eyes for a moment.

“I know, but it’ll make me feel better ta’ know you’re safe. Please? . . . Okay… Be back soon.”

Renji jostled him slightly as he nudged him aside to make room to put his phone back in his side pocket. There was another moment of silence and stillness in which Ikkaku dropped right back down into sluggish dozing. “Hey, are you asleep? Ikkaku, wake up.” Renji nudged him. “Ikkaku.” He shook him once.

“Whu’?” he mumbled, not moving.

“Wake up.” Ikkaku blinked as Renji nudged him again and made him sit up straight. “We’re almost there, just stay awake for a few more minutes.”

Ikkaku groaned and stretched his arms out in front of him, yawning. Renji was quiet for a few moments, a thoughtful and slightly tense expression on his face. As he looked down at his legs and picked at a hole on the upper thigh of his jeans, it was incredibly clear that he wanted nothing more than to be with Ichigo. He looked so damn miserable.

“Knock off that frownin’. We’ll figure this out,” Ikkaku said, kicking Renji’s boot with his own. Ikkaku let his legs rest completely splayed out, carelessly flopped and balanced on the heels with the toes pointing up, while Renji had his soles on the floor and his knees bent like a civilized human. He kicked him again when Renji kept wallowing.

“I know. Waiting is hard though.” Renji sighed a little, looking to Ikkaku.

“Hey, you’ got this, yer’ the man,” Ikkaku slurred in a way that he hadn’t since before he’d cut back on the drinking. He yawned widely. “You’ve handled this great so far. ‘M proud.”

Renji smirked a little and then broke into a smile, that smile that always made Ikkaku want to beat some toughness and self-worth into his kouhai’s generous giving heart. “Thanks for doing this, Senpai.”

“What’re you thankin’ me for, I didn’t do nothin’.” Ikkaku looked up as ‘Akasaka Station’ flashed on the sign overhead. That was their stop.

“But you were there for me. I couldn’ta’ gotten through tonight otherwise,” Renji said seriously, seeming somewhat shy about it, as Ikkaku had long been known to box his ear for any show of gratitude or praise, in an effort to get him to stop treating him like a senpai and more like a friend. “I knew I could come to you for help. Thanks.”

“Aw, whatever,” Ikkaku muttered dismissively with his arms crossed over his chest in an attempt to hide that he was pleased from his bare toes to the top of his reflective head.

“No really,” Renji urged with a flippant smirk. “You’re kind of a jerk sometimes, Ikkaku, but you’re still a good friend.”

“Pssh, let’s just get Hisagi already.”

As they got out, Ikkaku headed confidently through the commercial buildings towards the residential area. He’d come to play around here when he’d been younger, even though he’d been somewhat of a country boy when he’d been real small. He hadn’t exactly been born in the city, but he’d been raised there. Akasaka is a familiar place.

Memories returned as he crossed a few more streets and looked at familiar houses, yards and driveways he remembered playing in. The residents of such houses had changed countless times since then, no doubt, but the nostalgia was still there.

Renji was fiddling with his phone map as Ikkaku strolled past a few gates and under some hanging trees. No doubt if anyone was in the local kouban, they’d have a suspicious eye turned on them immediately, stalking through a residential area so late at night.

He hummed a little as he thought of how he'd have to walk home after this little meeting — there weren’t any buses after about midnight. No public transport, actually. Maybe he’d let Renji crash at his place, but knowing that stubborn ass, he’d get back to Ichigo come hell or high water.

“Here,” Renji tried to show him, attempting to shove his phone under his nose, but Ikkaku flinched away, the light hurting his eyes. “Ikkaku, look, c’mon.” Ikkaku squinted and let Renji show him the screen. “Can you get us here?”

“Yeah, that’s a bachelor’s apartment,” Ikkaku noted thoughtfully. He knew that Muguruma had a rentfree home somewhere farther to the north that Hisagi had stayed in when he'd taken him in, but when the guy worked — _i.e. nearly all the time_ — he was holed up in an apartment on his own.

Knowing what the apartment of a single man looked like all too well, Ikkaku wasn’t eager to visit, but again, Renji needed this, so he was willing to just get it over with.

“This way,” Ikkaku said, not too loudly, since the world was mostly asleep. Occasionally a car would roll past and blind them or a helicopter would pass overhead, but for the most part, this neighborhood had its lights out and was quiet, aside from one or two late-night television-viewers.

“I think it’s that one.” Ikkaku pointed at a red-brick building that was crumbling around the edges from age. Very homey, but would probably look like a venue for a murder were it not stationed in such a friendly neighborhood. “Check the map.”

Renji looked from his phone screen to the building several times as they walked towards it. He twisted his cell this way and that as the compass went haywire when they got too close to their endpoint, and eventually the phone said that they had arrived. Sure enough, there was Hisagi’s car in the lot, parked next to a ladybug-print Beatle.

“Second floor, room five,” Renji said as he bounded up the stairs. Ikkaku followed more slowly, avoiding the cracks in the cement steps and sticking close to the wall, where the foundation was more sound.

When he made it up to Renji, he noted that now he was just standing there looking apprehensive, his fist hovering in front of the grey door and its chipped paint. Ikkaku sighed through his nose — is he having another moment?

He knows the kid works really hard to better himself, having come from a poor background and growing up with no manners — in his adult life, after finally getting straight once he'd met Ichigo, he drowned himself in abject politeness and tradition when a situation held even the slightest formality. That courtesy was keeping him from knocking on a stranger’s door at twelve twenty-five.  


    Not so with Ikkaku.  


He could hear the TV going, so someone was home and awake. Shoving Renji out of the way, Ikkaku pounded his fist on the door quite gratuitously, to the point where Renji looked like he was legitimately having a stroke. Ikkaku didn’t care, though. He wasn’t afraid a’ no teeth-baring glove-wearing brute like Muguruma.

Ikkaku stopped then to give whoever was inside a chance to come greet them before he started shouting that they get their ass up _now_ and come open the door.

Rather than chewing him out with some version of ‘I-can’t-believe-you-just-did-that,' Renji turned with a sharp inhale, putting a hand over his mouth and looking at the cracked plaster-ceiling, shaking his head and asking the gods for strength.

He froze then as the clear sound of footsteps walking down a creaky hallway became audible, deceptively light footsteps. A bolt was undone in the door, and it opened a bit.

Renji turned around like lightning, seeming ready to apologize for the intrusion complete with a bow, while Ikkaku just stood there stoically, the picture of calm with his arms crossed. However, it wasn’t the wolf-faced beast they’d expected. It was a _girl._

Ikkaku glanced over to Renji, thinking maybe the kid had gotten the room number wrong, but Renji wasn’t looking at him. He’d taken one moment to gape at the little lady and then was looking anywhere else besides her. Renji’s face was beet-red, literally _magenta;_ his entire expression and posture was absolutely stricken.

It took a moment for it to register, but Ikkaku realized then that Renji must have assumed that this was Hisagi’s bed partner, that this girl had been taken home by Shuuhei and that they’d had sex. While Renji was not humiliated by sex, he had never been able to stand that Hisagi was supposedly disloyal, and having it right in his face like this seemed to have completely  _mortified_ him.

Ikkaku knows Renji has to be wrong though. Muguruma never would’ve let Hisagi bring girls to his house to sleep with them, and besides that, Hisagi wasn’t a lech, and didn’t go after women to the extent that he said he did — he was actually kind of shy around girls. Renji was just thoroughly gullible in the face of Hisagi’s empty boasting and was fully convinced that this girl was his senpai’s one-night-stand.

Ikkaku ignored Renji's flustered reaction as the girl cocked her head to one side, big brown eyes blinking at him. She had a cute face, a short green bobcut, and wore a dress that had a pattern of half-slices of citrus fruit on it. He didn’t waste time with introductions, not caring either way who she was. If Hisagi was going to step out on Kira on top of all the shit he’d already pulled, then fuck him — and if that's the case, then the girl probably didn’t even know a thing about it anyways. She looked like a sweetheart.

In actuality, only about a second had passed since she’d opened the doors, and Ikkaku got straight to the point, still a little miffed that Hisagi had come out here to hide. His voice was a near shout, and surprisingly, she didn’t cringe at his volume, merely pursing her lips, her eyes wide and unblinking like an insect.

 _“Yo,_ we’re lookin’ for’a sacka’ _shit_ who hasn’t come into work for six straight days!”

Renji jumped into action then. “I-Ikkaku!" he squeaked, getting in front of him and apologizing profusely, “Miss, I’m so sorry!”

“Pshh,” he scoffed, crossing his arms and looking off as Renji embarrassed himself further by trying to talk to her without looking her in the eye — or any other part of her body.

“We don’t mean to intrude at this late hour, please forgive us,” Renji pleaded, head down. “We’re looking for Hisagi Shuuhei,” he ventured hesitantly, his speech very very polite. “Is he here?”

The girl moved and spoke for the first time since opening the door. Her cute face split into a smile and an obscenely high giggle spilled from her mouth. “Oh, he’s here,” she chirped somewhat mischievously. Ikkaku got a horrifying vision of Yachiru as a grown lady, then thoroughly shook himself free of it.

“Good,” Ikkaku grunted, already moving forward before beetle-girl had even really given any indication that she was going to let them in. Renji was still asking if they could see him when the girl moved out of Ikkaku’s way and let him sidle past through the door.

“Senpai, you are so damn rude!” Renji shouted after him as he stomped in behind him. He apologized again for the intrusion to the girl and then walked up to Ikkaku, hitting him in the shoulder. “Geez, Ikkaku, at least try ta’-”

He cut off then as the cute girl squeezed right through them with a giggle and ran around the corner to the front room. Ikkaku didn’t stick around to wait for Renji to start scolding him again, and followed her.

The apartment was spacious, and had a few more rooms than Ikkaku’s did, along with a front hall, but it wasn’t so nice in terms of quality. The walls were an aged color, and there were cracks in the paint, not to mention the overhead light flickered just slightly, which would’ve been enough to drive Ikkaku insane in a week. The furnishings were really very nice though, expensive even. The place was well-loved and well-lived in. It was obviously the home of a single man who was comfortable being on his own — one who was probably in his mid-thirties by this time, if he was able to have amounted this many nice things.

What put Ikkaku off was that there was a lot of food-garbage around: pizza boxes, takeout containers, beer bottles — and the bulk of it was on the glass and mahogany coffee table in front of a leather sofa, upon which sat — or rather _slumped —_  one Hisagi Shuuhei, who was staring mindlessly at a wall-mounted flat screen.

He was slouching there across the couch, the rim of a beer bottle brushing his lips where he idly held it on his chest. His other hand held the remote and had a half-done cigarette wedged between his knuckles. One leg was up on the sofa, the other was bent at the knee and set on the floor. Lazily dressed in a pair of grey sweats and a tank-top that looked like it hadn’t been washed or even taken off in a week, his zombie-like expression was illuminated by the flickering flashes of a late night drama, the kind nobody watched unless they were alone and miserable.  


   To say the least, he looked like absolute hell.  


Ikkaku crossed his arms and didn’t say a word, his expression stony. What a fucking disgrace. Look at the garbage all over this room! The _smell!_ Hisagi’s dirty-ass greasy _hair!_ Yumichika would pitch an absolute fit if he saw this! As it was, Ikkaku’s mouth tightened in disapproval as he assessed the sack of filth wallowing on the sofa. Renji just stared, seeming aghast.

The little lady smiled and bounced on the balls of her feet for a moment, seeming to be oblivious to the tension — she then wandered down the hallway and went into the bathroom, where a shower could be heard running.

“Hisagi-san,” Renji said, and Hisagi looked up suddenly, having just noticed them. His eyes were bloodshot.

There was a moment where Hisagi just stared at them, the surprise taking a second to penetrate his obviously sluggish and drowsy brain. He slowly put his leg on the floor and then sat up a little straighter, still just staring at them.

The idiot had the grace to look ashamed as he leaned forward and put out his cigarette in what Ikkaku realized was an ashtray. That looked like an entire three packs worth of stubs.

The three of them just kept staring at each other, waiting for someone to break the silence when suddenly, they heard a loud masculine shout, and then a bang from down the hall.

The bathroom door hurled open and rebounded off the wall and the girl shot out of there, giggling and dodging just in time as something heavy was thrown out the door and shattered against the wall.

Hisagi didn’t even flinch at the sound, but he did cringe in embarrassment. Ikkaku was mildly perturbed, but Renji had jumped, hair standing straight up in alarm.

 _“Get tha’ fuck outta’ here!”_ came an unrestrained roar.

She just laughed and raced around them, taking refuge in another room. Renji swallowed and took a breath, clenching and unclenching his fists, looking about ready to bolt himself. Ikkaku stood his ground, arms crossed over his chest.

More enraged shouting emanated from the bathroom, practically shaking the walls. Ikkaku could’ve sworn he saw some dust fall from the ceiling. _“Shuuhei, you good-fer’-nothin’,_ if you let her in my goddamn house _one more time,_ Imma’ put yer’ ass on the street!”

“She got past me,” Hisagi called back calmly, head rolling back against the back of the couch to aim his voice towards the bathroom.

_“Ragh!”_

There came a heavy slam of a door, and then there was Muguruma, stomping out of the bathroom in gym-shorts and a black cut-off tee. His hair was soaking wet and his clothes were sticking to him; all in all, it was hard to be intimidated by him just then. The guy had volume and unbridled rage going for him, that’s for sure — and muscles, Ikkaku could give him that.

Renji stood like a statue, as if the very aura of the grey-haired man with the piercings and undercut had turned him to stone. Ikkaku knew why well enough: these were the type of goons that Renji had had to deal with when he'd been in debt, only they’d had guns and knives and would actually _hurt_ people. Ikkaku doubted Muguruma would hurt a fly if the fly meant somethin’ to him. After all, if he was all bad and mean, he wouldn’t have taken Hisagi in twice.

After shooting Hisagi a look that would’ve made a lesser man cower, Muguruma stormed down the hall and slammed his bedroom door behind him, and in the ensuing beat of silence, Hisagi sighed. Before any of them could take a breath, the door was kicked open again, and Muguruma snapped, considerably quieter, “Don’t you an’ your friends drink all my beer if you know what’s good! _An’ throw out that trash!”_

The door slammed again. That time, Hisagi winced, not able to meet their eyes.

There was a quiet second or two that was then broken by a laugh track from the television. Hisagi cleared his throat uncomfortably, coughing once. “Look, you guys gotta’ go. I’m here on a favor and it’s best not to make him mad.”

“That wasn’t mad?” Renji asked, voice higher than usual. Ikkaku just stood there in silence, unmoved. It took more than that to intimidate him. He was decidedly unbothered by any of this, even Hisagi there being a pathetic mess, resting in his own filth.

Hisagi pressed his lips together at Renji’s comment, his sallow cheeks illuminated by the TV screen once more. He looked like he’d used an entire stick of sharkskin under his eyes and then eaten bad seafood until the hepatitis had turned his skin yellow.

“We need to talk to you, okay?” Renji summed up, somewhat nervously now that they’d actually gotten here. He kept his voice very low, as if hoping he wouldn’t give that stomping beast reason to come back out here.

“I don’t wanna’ see you guys right now,” Hisagi said in the same exhausted embarrassed tone.

Ikkaku cut in then, arms still crossed, eyes sharply narrowed and boring into Hisagi’s face, daring him to make eye-contact like a grown man should. “Too bad.”

Hisagi swallowed and looked away, then grimaced slightly. He raised a hand and shook it a little, as if to say this wasn’t a really big deal. “If this is about Yumichika-”

“Oh, get over yourself; we’re here on business,” Ikkaku said coldly, and Hisagi’s jaw shut with a satisfying click. Renji stood at the ready, tense with nervous energy, as though he thought Ikkaku would lunge for Hisagi any second now and wanted to be ready to get between them.

Ikkaku was past the point of violence with Hisagi now, though. He wasn’t really angry anymore; just deeply disappointed and quite frankly, _disgusted._ He seriously doubted any sort of redemption from Hisagi at this point, and wasn’t holding his breath for it. He wasn’t feeling much sympathy for him, even seeing him lying there like a sad sack. This was pathetic. He wasn’t even worth punching.

“Oh,” Hisagi replied, his voice very small, eyes downcast. “Heh’,” he laughed, and it was a pitiful excuse for a laugh, “Of course you guys didn’t just wanna’ visit, yeah?”

“Who the fuck’d wanna’ visit you?” Ikkaku challenged, asserting dominance, and then a tense silence ensued, crackling with energy as no one seemed to dare move. Hisagi didn’t rise to the bait, having no answer other than staring back.

Finally, Renji was the one to tentatively break the silence, glossing over Ikkaku’s direct display of aggression. “It’s about Ichigo,” he said, doing little to break their staring contest. It was a battle of wills, the room still full to bursting and incredibly tense.

Ikkaku glared into Hisagi’s eyes coldly, not moving a muscle, and Hisagi was looking back now, having seemed ashamed to look him in the eye before, but now he just looked completely defeated.

There was no fight there, and honestly, it was hard for Ikkaku to stay heated looking at that.

Honestly, right then, Ikkaku wondered where his buddy had gone. They'd used to be tight. He remembers how Hisagi had been, this stupid brat who'd spent his free time indulging his many hobbies, taking dumb photographs and arranging magazine pages and pestering him with his stupid guitar-playing, trying to write songs for his blonde boyfriend. He doesn't know where that person has gone, because Ikkaku didn't recognize the man in front of him now.

When he thought of how dirty Hisagi had done him, he felt angry, but now, faced with those hopeless eyes, Ikkaku couldn’t deny that there's nothing left there but a cry for help.

It was eerily similar to earlier that night when Renji had shown up, and Ikkaku had to backtrack and feel somewhat ashamed of himself — because while Renji was the type to get sloshed and then come raging and crying for his advice and support, Hisagi was a silent sufferer, Hisagi self-medicated, Hisagi _brooded_ _._  When Hisagi had issues, he didn't come out and ask Ikkaku for any help, and he sure as hell wouldn’t go to _Renji,_ his _junior_ _._

It wasn’t that Hisagi didn’t respect Ikkaku exactly, it was the simple fact that a few years back, Hisagi had pitched a fit and started a nasty weeks-long fight between them over some petty jealousy. Ikkaku had been spending too much time with Izuru, and Hisagi had gotten really upset and accusatory. They'd made up of course, but ever since then, Hisagi's had his pride and didn't share even the smallest weakness with him, maybe not feeling he deserved to show his vulnerable side when he needed advice.

Ikkaku made a point of not reaching out to people. If a man had any kind of common sense, when he needed help, he’d ask for it! That’s what Zaraki always said! Thing was, when Renji or Kira needed help, they were conspicuous, and made it easier for Ikkaku to offer in an offhanded way. Hisagi was a stubborn _shit_  though _,_ and apparently he still wasn't over that mess even though it was years ago now. The shame and guilt of having accused Ikkaku wrongly in the past and slinking away defeated, he must still be sore over it — but that didn’t mean the guy didn’t have problems and want answers from him still; that didn’t mean he didn’t want Ikkaku’s approval and friendship as much as Renji did.

It hasn't occurred to him until now, but all this time that Ikkaku's been waiting for Hisagi to reach out for help, really, Hisagi's been holding his hand out all along, waiting for them to come pull him back to his feet — that must be what all of this is. All of these awful things he's been doing, it's just desperation, isn't it.

Ikkaku's already had this whole horrible revelation about how they’d all neglected poor Izuru in his time of need, but what about Hisagi? For all Ikkaku’s bull-headed insistence that Izuru had been the victim in that situation, Hisagi had suffered too — he’d _clearly_ suffered.

Hisagi had been the one to directly deal with the aftermath of Kira’s misfortune, and although Renji had tried to help in the beginning, it had still mostly been Hisagi on his own while Ikkaku had largely stuck his head in the sand.

What was worse was that Hisagi had been the one to see Kira come out of the blackness, to really start to believe that this was all behind them, only to find that. . . that he’d _failed._ He’d found that on his own, he hadn't been enough to save Kira, to heal his hurt.

At that realization, and further realizing that he would receive no support from his friends, Hisagi must have been unable to cope with that pain. Ikkaku can't imagine what that must feel like.

It's not like he would have had to do much. Small gestures of support like offering a listening ear, extending advice, suggestions of therapy, maybe even taking Kira to his house for a short time to give Hisagi a break — he’d been perfectly capable of all of it, but he hadn’t wanted to be involved. Who _wanted_ to face the reality that Kira, naïve and so _gentle,_ had been hurt like that, _manipulated_ like that? It was fucked up.

Hisagi hadn't had the luxury of ignoring it like Ikkaku had though. He'd had no choice but to face it.

He’d held out for an impressively long time, but had eventually buckled under the strain and had had to get out of there. What's worse is that the hand he'd held out, waiting for help — he'd never received it. Instead, he'd been kicked while he was down.

They've never really talked about what happened, not directly, but there have been plenty of nasty insinuations, suggestive comments, and underhanded insults directed towards Hisagi and his way of dealing with things. It had been the cause of many arguments at the shop. In so doing, it had been made perfectly clear to Hisagi from the get-go that he was on his own. Once he’d finally cracked and broken that first time and left Izuru, Renji and Ikkaku had been on Izuru’s side — and rightfully so — but Hisagi had felt attacked.

He didn't know what the poor guy was supposed to do in that situation other than retreat, growing defensive and bitter, but there had been a silent plea there that hadn’t been answered.

 

Of course, none of this excused Hisagi’s current behavior — Ikkaku would’ve been willing to let everything go: Hisagi having broken up with Kira, him having crawled back several times only to ditch him repeatedly, him having tried to move on and date new people, him lashing out at Renji, hell, even him swiping and possibly doing the nasty with Yumichika. Refusing to go pick a severely-ill Kira up at the hospital was where he drew the line. Sure, break up with someone, okay, no one can stop you. Okay, treat your friends shitty, they kind of deserved it. Alright, head after someone new even if you know your friend likes them, it’s fair game. Kira though, Kira hadn’t done a goddamn thing, and deliberately hurting him to make a point was _not_ alright. Ikkaku wouldn’t stand for it.

Maybe though. . . Maybe all of that hadn’t been out of bitterness after all. Maybe they had been last ditch attempts, desperate cries for attention. Maybe he hadn't gone back because he was just too ashamed to show his face to Kira by this point. Maybe he'd stayed away so long because he couldn’t bear to drag himself back to them. Ikkaku didn’t want to believe that Hisagi didn’t have the capacity for regret anymore, that they’d crushed that out of him too.  
  
  
Perhaps the poor soul had felt that none of them would forgive him anyway and that they all hated him now. . . What else was he supposed to expect at this point?  


Ikkaku continued staring Hisagi down with less heat, hands gripping tightly onto each upper arm where they crossed over his chest. The bandaged palm still pinched and ached. Ikkaku absently unfolded his arms and rubbed at the wound, not breaking the gaze even then.

Had they really made Hisagi that desperate that he’d felt like he’d had no option but to leave Kira, to escape? Had things really gotten so bad that he’d had no choice other than continue to sacrifice his own mental health? Surely he and Renji hadn’t made Hisagi feel that hated and alone?  


Ikkaku felt somewhat uncomfortable as an inconvenient echo of the past hissed through the back of his mind. The betrayal in Hisagi’s voice rang through clearly this time:     
  
  
    ‘Not once have either of you two shown me an ounce of support!’  


It had been bullshit at the time, it had enraged Ikkaku to the point of blacking out, but now that he’d stepped away from the heated emotions of that moment, he could again hear the hurt in those words, the anger at being abandoned, the shame that he’d had to stoop so low to get his attention.

He relaxed slightly, brows uncreasing, and maybe somewhere inside him he felt a twinge of sympathy, maybe his heart opened that door again, reluctantly willing to let Hisagi back in. Big brother didn’t throw little brother out in the cold forever, even when little brother was a fucking ungrateful brat. Maybe he kicked him out for a day, but he left the door unlocked for when he came back to apologize.

Ikkaku was not a cruel man, and was not too proud to say sorry or to forgive when it was the right thing to do. Although he was all about not putting up with bad people who did nothing but hurt you, he also was a firm believer that blood was thicker than water and that you didn’t give up on family while there was still hope.

  
“Oh yeah?” Hisagi ventured, breaking the long silence and finally cutting off eye contact with Ikkaku, sharply so, as if it had suddenly become so unbearable that it physically burned him.

  
Ikkaku just stared, still lost in thought as Renji briefed Hisagi in as discreet a manner as he could about what was up with Ichigo. Ikkaku couldn’t immediately handle the revelation that maybe Hisagi wasn’t completely in the wrong for what he’d done and that maybe, once again, he had to accept that he’d been a bad friend.  


_'Ahh fuck.'  
_

Fully intent on apologizing, but still feeling right in the fact that Hisagi had done some shitty and uncalled for things and needed to express remorse first, Ikkaku dropped his cold and somewhat murderous attitude and listened on calmly as Renji explained the happenings very seriously, mentioning some background that he hadn’t earlier told Ikkaku.

Hisagi was listening attentively, although with a somewhat tired and shamed expression, as if he knew he looked a mess and felt undeserving but pleased that he was being included in their problem. Finally Renji got to the meat of what they had needed to really see Hisagi for.  
  
“And that Grimmjow guy-”

Hisagi immediately flung his hands up and made an ‘x’ with his arms, then swiped it apart, shaking his head adamantly. “No way, I _hate_ that guy!” he snapped, “Me an’ him are _done!”_

Ikkaku was puzzled by this change in attitude and sudden display of vehemence. Renji seemed equally confused. They’d both been fully convinced that those two were cool with each other and hung out occasionally.

“What? Why?” Renji asked, seeming on the verge of a crushing disappointment. The kid had really been riding on the fact that Hisagi was in the know with this guy and now that it seemed like he didn’t even have that, he was dead in the water.

Hisagi leaned forward, forearms braced on his thighs, hands dangling. His face was a bitter scowl as he mumbled, “He put the moves on Izuru.”

Ikkaku and Renji glanced at each other. Why would Hisagi care, if he had moved on and wouldn’t even pick Izuru up when he could’ve been dying? “…”

“…” Hisagi seemed embarrassed by his own outburst, not speaking on it for a moment, before explaining that it hadn’t been recently, but some time ago. “It happened while Izuru was Ichimaru’s subordinate on that research team.” Ikkaku hadn’t heard Hisagi say that name in ages. Even now, it didn’t come off his tongue without a tone of abject hatred. “You remember?” Hisagi prompted somewhat hesitantly, eyes casting up towards Renji in a cautious manner as if he didn’t want to bring the subject up around them. Damn, they really had made him completely skittish of the topic by the way they’d treated him any time it had come up.

Renji nodded uncertainly in response. They vaguely knew of the happenings and goings-on of that time in their lives, but neither he nor Ikkaku had asked for the gritty details. Even now, they were cautious in finding out the truth; it still stung, and again, how selfish was that? They hadn’t even been the ones to go through it, and yet here they were, trying to keep it at arm's length.

“Sort of,” he said somewhat meekly, as if not wanting to hurt Hisagi with the words, like he felt he. . . couldn’t say anything on it.

Ikkaku blinked, looking between the two, realizing they were both glancing to him furtively. What...?  Wait, it's not _him_ that they... No, no, that can't be right. That's not how things are. Ikkaku couldn’t accept this.

He swallowed and shifted as Hisagi went on and leaned back into the couch. “So Jaegerjaquez, I thought he was okay, yeah? We were on good terms for a while, but no, he’s this sick disgusting pig.” There was a long dramatic sigh as Hisagi shook his head.

“So this guy, he kept harassing Izuru and interfering with his work, yeah? But I didn’t get involved, cause’ Izuru told me to leave it,” he said, waving a hand and closing his eyes briefly with a sigh. “Never shoulda’ listened…”

Renji was decidedly silent, but his brow was creasing in sympathy, like he was an inch from reaching out a hand to pat Hisagi’s leg. That kid was so damn forgiving; Ikkaku knew that Hisagi had said some real nasty shit to Renji if it had bothered him enough that he’d had to go home from a night out, and yet here he was yearning to offer comfort to his hurting friend. Ikkaku could afford to take a leaf out of his book, maybe.

Not skipping more than a beat, Hisagi went on with a hardened determination, but still a clear exhaustion, as if he was glad to finally get this out, but it was still hard. “Anyways, Izuru complained to one of the team leaders of the experiment, yeah? And Ichimaru took him on as a personal assistant to assure his safety without having to fire anyone, because everyone on that team was valuable.”

Ikkaku entered the conversation then, tone as casual and unjudgemental as he could possibly make it, trying to make it plain to Hisagi that it was safe for him to 'come home,’ to start mending ties if he so chose. “Wait, so that blue-hair guy is the reason that those two…” He waved a finger from one side to another to indicate Izuru and Ichimaru having had their sick little tryst, if it could really be called that.

“Yeah,” Hisagi mumbled petulantly, lip curling just slightly, although it clearly wasn’t directed at Ikkaku. “An’ I don’t want anything to do with either one of ‘em.” He crossed his arms and glared across the room halfheartedly, as if he couldn’t really put his all into scorning them.

“Wait, so you’re telling me that ‘date-rape-drug-guy’ was harassing Izuru at work.”

“…” Hisagi looked at him, absolutely blank-faced.

“So I’m assuming he was on this team too and was working under Ichimaru also.”

“…”

“Ichimaru, who was in charge of that guy. This was also Kira’s employer for a time, right?” Ikkaku said slowly, Hisagi’s eyes boring into his.

"Yeah?... Are you going somewhere with this?"

"Not really."

Hisagi frowned, eyes lingering on him. There was a flicker of confusion, then recognition, and then as if a switch had been flicked, all the color drained out of Hisagi’s already pallid face. He raised the back of his hand to his mouth, pale and shaky, looking like he was going to throw up right there. Ikkaku turned to the side and exhaled, crossing his arms again, because he’d had enough of these displays for one night.

“…” Ikkaku glanced back over his shoulder to see Hisagi’s desperate wild eyes staring out into the abyss. He looked like he'd just realized something awful, but Ikkaku has no idea what it was. 

“…” Nothing came out of his mouth for a second as he swayed minutely, not even blinking, face completely stuck in that expression of absolute shock and just an inkling of horror.

Hisagi looked up then, expression completely shell-shocked, frozen in an edifice of abject sadness. “I’ve gotta’ talk to him,” he said in the smallest most _lost_ tone he’d ever had the displeasure of hearing.

Renji cut through that weird uncomfortable moment with a thoughtless remark. “He’s in the hospital,” he said dumbly.

Hisagi’s head snapped around and it was immediately clear to Ikkaku that Hisagi had _not_ left Kira there as a gesture of cruelty. In fact, he had obviously had no idea at all. Of course he hadn’t. His phone line had been disconnected, meaning the hospital had never reached him. He’d never refused to get Kira; he hadn’t even known. Ikkaku should’ve known that Hisagi would never do something so shitty.

“W-what?” he stuttered in a cracked whisper.

Renji’s brows pushed together as he seemed to realize he’d stuck his foot in it. “We tried to get in touch with you, man,” he pleaded, his voice a soft whine as he reached a hand out, but Hisagi just turned to Ikkaku as if asking him to affirm the truth, absolutely aghast.

Ikkaku stood there with a stony resigned expression, letting out a sigh through his nose. “They called us Saturday, askin’ for one of us ta’ come get ‘im, so we figured that they’d already called you and that you’d refused,” he explained, corners of his mouth turning down.  


“Kira’s been in critical care for four days now.”  


“Where?”  


“Sumida.”  


Hisagi got up, stricken. He grabbed a coat, his keys, a billfold, and a coat, and looking absolutely wretched, tore out of the house without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so begins the gang violence/yakuza arc


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ikkaku spends a night out with the gang — no, not that kind of gang. It looks like that's going to come later, because worryingly, Renji isn't letting this go.

The following couple of days took on a sense of eerie calm, and Ikkaku only said it was eerie because the last thing he would’ve expected after so much dramatic shit having happened was a calm moment. That being said, this _'calm_ _'_ was too fucking suspicious to be enjoyed.

For one, his priorities had taken a huge shift.

First of all, the ugly truth that he’d been treating Hisagi like shit for months could no longer be ignored. First thing’s first — he needed to make amends there. It's weird after this long resenting Hisagi whenever he thought about him, because suddenly, in its place is _guilt_ — he had to fix what he'd broken if he and Hisagi were ever to make peace and not just have an awkward… _truce_ rather than a friendship.

Secondly, there's the fact that this _ghost_ that had been constantly leering in the background for the past year — this whole business with Kira and everything that went along with that — that ghost was suddenly absent. Because of the events that had transpired a few days ago, that entire mess seemed to have been reconciled quite neatly. Now that Kira was in the hospital and Hisagi was back with him and watching over him, Ikkaku was fairly confident that they were going to be all right and that this matter could be well and truly put to rest. He didn’t have to worry about them so much now. He was sure that in a year or so, this would all just be a blip they could look back on and say, ‘remember that time we all went fucking _crazy_ and turned on each other?’

But there's the third thing.

— Because while one couple was out of trouble, now the other was _in_ it. He was pretty concerned about Renji and Ichigo, _really goddamn concerned —_  he's worried about Ichigo for obvious reasons, and for Renji too, because he's not sure the kid has the emotional strength to get Ichigo back to a good place, not if he's a wreck himself.

Ikkaku wasn’t sure what to do, which really sucked, because he had literally _just_  gone through the same dilemma with Izuru — except that time he’d decided to just walk away from it completely; _not_ a mistake he’d repeat. He's gonna' be a good friend this time.

But he really had no idea what course of action was appropriate in this type of situation.

Worse is he's really tempted to do the exact same thing as last time and try to awkwardly ignore the whole thing, because how can he look the kid in the face after this. What does he  _say?_

‘Sorry you were had by strangers Ichigo, but you’ll get through this—’ Like, wasn’t that completely _assholish?_ But what's the alternative? Say nothing? Pretend nothing had happened like he’d done with Kira?

Renji and Ichigo were different than Kira and Hisagi though — those two aren't going to want outside help. He's pretty sure that they weren't going to tell anyone else about this, probably not even that Rukia lady. It made Ikkaku feel really shitty for even _knowing,_  because now he was in on a very personal and _private secret,_ and _fuck,_  he was not good with holding onto those. It wasn’t that he _told;_ it was more like he acted _weird_ when he knew something he shouldn’t, and people realized on their own.

And besides, if Ikkaku were in Ichigo's position, he'd want to be spared the humiliation of someone else seeing him at his lowest point — which made Ikkaku think he should keep his goddamn mouth shut, because the last thing he wanted was to make Ichigo feel ashamed.

When he’d first found out, Renji had been so hysterical that he'd tried to talk him down and keep him calm, but looking back, he'd probably been in his own state of shock — because over time, it had started to set in and feelings of anger had emerged. He was fucking furious, he  _grieved_ for this wrong, perhaps not as badly as Renji did, but fuck, man.

Ichigo's a little punk and the baby of the group, and they all pick on him even more than they pick on Renji as their little brother, but if Ikkaku feels anything for Ichigo, it's respect — and to know he'd had to go through that, it ripped him up. They hadn’t even fought Ichigo like _men._ They’d drugged him and just had their way with him! Rrgh, he’d like to find whoever had done this and just… _tear into them._

Of course, what he wanted to do and what was _sensible_ were two very different things. Ichigo shouldn’t have to live with this scar to his pride for the rest of his life. He didn’t deserve to have his attackers walk free — but Ikkaku knew that hunting them down to beat their asses wouldn't reconcile this. It would make things worse.

It was just… solving things with violence would’ve been Ikkaku’s way of stepping in and helping — but that was _out._  Ikkaku had some capacity for restraint after all, and although this was a little agonizing, he had to accept it, because even though Ichigo’s attackers shouldn’t go unpunished, Ikkaku wasn’t the one who’d been wronged by them. It'd be different if Ichigo had wanted him and Renji to make those guys pay, but he'd told Renji repeatedly to let it go, which meant Ikkaku also had to stay his hand… fist.

But if violence was out, he doesn't know what else to do. He had to do _something._ He would _not_ do nothing this time. Ichigo deserved to be avenged, but if that wasn’t going to happen, then he deserved the care of his friends. . . That was the problem, though. Not only is Ikkaku bad at comforting others, but Ichigo is bad at accepting it — if you aren't a tattooed monkey-brain, that is.

Fuck, this was complicated!  
  
It's probably awful enough that Ikkaku even  _knew_ about it. Mentioning that knowledge in any way, even if it was in an attempt to help, it might just come off as pity — and he doesn't think the poor guy's pride can take anymore abuse.

His best bet is to try and comfort Renji instead, y'know, help him keep his back straight so Ichigo can lean on him in this horrible time.

In the meantime, he didn't know how he was supposed to act around Ichigo. He didn’t want to end up making things _weird_ by showing too much sympathy or not enough.He knew damn well that Kurosaki Ichigo was _not_ a man you could show pity to — that was a surefire way to get on his shit-list. However, even though Ikkaku didn’t want to walk on eggshells, he also didn’t want to be an insensitive fucker either.

He should probably just take Renji's lead and copy what he did, because he knew Ichigo best and could find that balance — and it  _had_ to be a balance. Normalcy and safety were probably important for his recovery, but the harsh reality was that things weren’t and couldn’t be the same, and they couldn’t act like nothing had happened — Ichigo had been completely degraded.

Ikkaku can't even imagine it, being made helpless, forced to lie there and go through the abject humiliation of not being able to fight back. The emotional trauma of having been that powerless, all the feelings of anger and shame and self-hatred that come along with it, it had to be unbearable. There was so much shit that had to be on Ichigo’s mind, not to mention the physical side of things, the direct aftermath of having his body ravaged and the looming possibility that he may have been passed an STD. The whole thing was a clusterfuck, and acting like Ichigo was just supposed to go on as he always has, that’d be completely _fucked up._

That was the type of shit that haunted people for their entire lives. Look at Renji. He’d been a kid when it had happened and he'd gotten through it, he could function in a healthy relationship, but his past still followed him, it was still a scar, it was still _there,_ embedded in his psyche — and Renji had actually dealt with things _well._  Izuru was the flipside of that dichotomy; he hadn't been able to cope, he'd completely fallen to pieces.

That being said, this would undoubtedly be a sensitive time, and Ikkaku had to treat it with tact.

The highest priority now was getting Ichigo back on his feet and to make sure he was handling the immediate aftermath —  no suicide attempts, no major bouts of depression, no attempts to confront the attackers. Ichigo needed to rest and rebuild, and with Renji being as supportive and loyal as he was, Ikkaku was sure that Ichigo was in good hands for the time being — that was it though, it was just for the time being. Ikkaku had a sick feeling that this was going to resurface.

It sickened him to think it, but it wouldn't have been hard for one of the guys to take out their phone during the attack and tape it. It was bad enough that Ichigo'd had to go through that, but on top of it, someone out there probably had clips of him drugged out and exposed, and could upload them on the internet or use them as blackmail at any time. From Renji’s explanation, Ichigo had been too spaced out to even notice their faces, let alone if they’d been recording it. They don't have many clues, other than Ichigo having since remembered their white hoodies, but that was still no lead at all. 

Their only real clue was this Jaegerjaquez guy, and that seemed to be a dead-end. Renji was sure he’d been involved, but Ichigo was pretty firm in saying that Grimmjow would never do anything _that_ shitty to him.

Ikkaku sighed, sitting there in a huff. He’d like Yumichika’s help with this one. He respects Ichigo's privacy too much to tell anyone else, but y'know, Ikkaku still needed a boundless amount of advice on how to extend an apology to Hisagi. He wished he could tell Yumichika his woes, tell him he’d done some bad things and that he didn’t know how to make them right. Yumichika might not know the answers, but at least he’d listen.

Alas, they’d only talked briefly over the past few days, since the both of them had been very busy with work.

Ikkaku had made sure to call him and tell him he missed him at least. If they’d had the time, he would’ve liked to tell Yumichika about the Hisagi-issue from start to finish just to get it off his chest, but he didn’t want to burden him. He’d been the one to be a dick to Hisagi — he deserved to handle it alone. Having someone help him make amends would just make the amends _cheap_ and that ruined the whole point.

That left him to his own devices, and not properly talking to Yumichika for this long certainly wasn’t doing much to calm him down, and shit, he really needed something to calm him down. With everything going on, his nerves had pretty much been shot to hell.

He already had some sort of undiagnosed manic disorder leftover from childhood that he kept under pretty good control by self-medicating, but with all this excitement going on, he was a ball of nervous energy. It really was the last thing he needed when everyone was dealing with their problems — he had to be here. He was _going to be here this time, damnit,_ and he didn’t want to be dealing with his own shit on top of it. He couldn’t land his ass in some sorry state, because god damnit this wasn’t about him. He had to be here for his suffering friends.

His only saving grace was that Rangiku had called one day to chat about random shit. Putting her on speaker while he bummed around the shop had actually been quite therapeutic. He'd told her a bit of what had happened — nothing about Ichigo, of course, but a lot about Hisagi. Ikkaku wanted to make amends with the guy, he really did. For one, most of the reasons that he’d had to be mad at Hisagi were now obsolete. He and Yumichika were seeing each other now, and Hisagi obviously hadn’t meant to leave Kira at the hospital by himself. Not much was left.

On top of that, Ikkaku felt like if he’d been the buddy that Hisagi had deserved,then he never would’ve even gotten to the point where he would’ve tried swiping Yumichika. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even have ever left Kira if he'd had a proper support system.

Now, Ikkaku was the type of guy who never felt the need to justify his behavior, and in this situation — at least at the time — he’d really felt like he’d been right in being angry, but now… holding a grudge seemed kind of silly at this point. Hisagi hadn’t been entirely in the wrong and both he and Ikkaku had things to apologize for. . . Mostly Ikkaku. Pretty much _all_ him, actually.

He felt bad, okay?

He’d been wrong and he felt bad about it. Even just _admitting_ it after holding this ridiculous grudge for so long was pretty humbling.

He wasn’t really even in the position to ‘forgive’ Hisagi for anything — he was the one who should be apologizing. He should have a long time ago. How could he have called Hisagi a coward when he hadn’t even been willing to face facts himself?

He couldn’t blame Hisagi for breaking down without help when he had never offered it. It wasn’t even that Ikkaku hadn’t offered help though. It wasn’t even that he’d ignored the problem completely. He’d ignored it where and when it was _convenient._  He ignored the part where Kira was suffering and the part where Hisagi couldn’t handle it on his own, but had still found it appropriate to routinely treat Hisagi like shit.

Not only that either. He hadn’t just given him no support and then berated him for failing on his own — he’d made sure he’d gotten no support from anyone else. Ikkaku hadn't realized before, but it looked like Renji had ended up going along with everything he’d said about Hisagi, regardless of whether or not he truly agreed. He couldn’t completely blame Renji for it, because he knew how much the kid looked up to him and respected his opinion. Ikkaku was to blame for his own behavior, but Renji was impressionable, and it was probably his fault that Renji hadn’t reached out himself, because Renji had a truly kind heart and had always been far closer with Hisagi that Ikkaku ever had — but because of Ikkaku’s goading, Renji had caved and Hisagi had ended up with no one, and why? For _what,_  really? Because he’d gotten mad? Being mad was an hour, maybe a _day._ Being mad wasn’t _eight months._

He’d held this grudge for so long that he couldn’t remember what exactly had tipped it off. It was like the resentment he’d felt towards Hisagi over leaving Kira had been the foundation, and then little things had just piled on, whatever he could think of, it had just built and built, as if he were grasping at straws to try to prove this ridiculous point to himself that he was right in being angry. And why? Because Hisagi had left? Because he’d known there was nothing more he could do?

Zaraki always said a man had to know when to walk away. . . Maybe it had been time. Maybe Kira really had been too far gone and it had been time for Hisagi to go.

Ikkaku just hadn’t wanted to accept that.

It really sucks, because he’d made Hisagi out to be a coward and a bum for so long, and look at him now. _Going back_ after he’d been caused so much pain and grief — that was a veritable _model_ of bravery. Ikkaku was truly… _impressed._ Going back like that was the opposite of cowardly.

If anyone was a coward here, it was Ikkaku. He’d been the one to ignore his friend’s plight just because he’d been _uncomfortable_ with it. He’d been the one who’d refused to face it, who’d gone around placing blame rather than offering help. He’d weaseled out of it when he should’ve just put aside his pride and shown some compassion. Hisagi had left Kira, but Ikkaku had run. Hisagi had given up, but Ikkaku had never even tried. Hisagi had broken after showing bravery for so long, but Ikkaku had been a coward the entire time.

This is going to be hard, because Ikkaku was a very prideful man. He was a stubborn man. He was a _determined_ man, and could be very single-minded and perhaps even _close-_ minded if he thought about it. He would beat an issue into the ground if he felt he was in the right. Emotions ruled him, mainly anger, and once you got him going, there was no stopping him. That being said, even knowing he was in the wrong, he still probably would’ve taken this damn vendetta to his grave if it wasn’t for the fact that at this point he had nothing left to attack Hisagi with.

He’d gone back to Kira, so harping on him for bailing was out. Yumichika had ended up with him anyways despite Hisagi's best efforts to fuck things up for him, so that was out too. Ikkaku couldn’t even be ticked that Hisagi had tried to go after Rangiku, because again, he was back with Izuru. Even when Hisagi had refused to pick Kira up from the E.R., that had just been a miscommunication, and the way he’d cussed Renji out, well, he'd sort of been backed into a corner at that point and had lashed out, understandably. 

He couldn’t even be mad about that fistfight they'd finally had at the garage, because really, that fight had never been about Yumichika or Rangiku at all — it was about what Hisagi had admitted at long last, that he’d wanted support all along and hadn’t gotten it. That fight had been Hisagi’s real feelings, his hurt, his frustration — that had been his breaking point. Ikkaku couldn’t really place the fault on him for that.

All that being said, there was literally nothing left that Ikkaku could blame him for at this point, and once he admitted that to himself, it became embarrassingly clear that he’d been a total dick.

Ikkaku was estranged from what was left of his blood family. He had all of four close friends, he had Kenpachi and Yachiru, and he had Yumichika now, even Ichigo and Rangiku counted — but that was a drop in the ocean. He couldn’t afford to be treating one of the few people who gave a shit about him like they were nothing to him. He couldn’t treat one of his few family members like garbage, because shit, Hisagi had been family to him once — it seemed like a long time ago to him now, but it was true.

No, Ikkaku didn’t really even deserve to be sorry at this point. He hadn’t given Hisagi any sympathy before. Focusing only on the fact of what had happened to Kira, he’d never pitied how it affected Hisagi. Being sorry now, just when things were finally getting resolved, seriously, it was such a dick move. He didn’t feel he even deserved to come forward to Hisagi and apologize.

Ikkaku didn’t consider himself to be a cruel man, but he’d had his moments — but that’s what they’d been was _moments,_  just little blips, but _this?_ Not paying attention to a friend’s hurt because of one’s own self-centeredness for _that long:_  that was straight-up being a bad person.

He wanted to make amends, and if he couldn’t make up for what he’d done in the past, he wanted to provide help now, in the present. He wanted to take some of the weight off of Hisagi’s shoulders. Sure, the guy had had one hell of a second wind, but no man was an island, and it still had to be difficult.

Ikkaku was actually very impressed with how Hisagi had been handling this. He had a lot of respect for the fact that Hisagi had gone through so much pain, so much abuse from them — pretty much all from him, he won't drag Renji into it — but was still a big enough person to put that aside and go back. That took a man,and Ikkaku really respected Hisagi’s guts. He didn’t know if he’d have had that much strength if their positions had been reversed.

He's been holding up well, but he still shouldn't have to do it on his own — not this time. With that in mind, Ikkaku felt he should be helpful. Although he didn’t feel as though he really _deserved_ to offer help at this point, he would damn well try.

Maybe when Kira was released from the hospital, Ikkaku could let him stay over with him. He had an extra futon he could roll out, didn’t he? Kira could camp out with him, and Hisagi could have some peace in the evenings — not that Hisagi didn’t love Kira to death, but round-the-clock care wore on a person no matter _how_ much you loved them. That’d be a nice thing to do, right? Plus, Ikkaku would like to hang out with Kira — that guy sure knew how to play cards. It’d be great.

However, he knew Hisagi would never accept the offer for a plethora of reasons, i.e., he didn’t want Kira out of his sight, he would want to take responsibility for Kira himself, and there was also the fact that he was still guilty for how he’d acted towards Ikkaku years back during that fight and wouldn’t want to burden Ikkaku in any way. On top of all that, he was probably angry with Ikkaku right now as it was — understandably so. There was a lot going on with him. That didn’t matter though, really. Even if Hisagi would turn down the offer, it wouldn’t hurt to show that he was trying to mend ties, would it?

Ugh, even just thinking about it made Ikkaku’s stomach hurt, because, shit, he’d really done the guy dirty. He didn’t even know if there were enough good acts in the world that he could do to fully apologize for the crap he’d pulled. He’d pretty much routinely destroyed the guy’s self-esteem day after day and treated him like shit. Ikkaku didn’t know if they could ever look each other in the eye again and consider each other friends, but he’d give it a good try. Hisagi deserved that much.

Ikkaku couldn’t stop thinking about it really; he hadn’t for the last four days, as there was nothing there to distract him from that train of thoughts. The guilt was now a constant looming presence in the forefront of his mind, telling him that he couldn’t relax or sit still, that there were matters that needed closure, wounds that needed stitching, burning bridges he could be trying to save.

He thought about Kira a lot too. He’d be okay now that Hisagi was back and now that he was getting help in the hospital, but Ikkaku was concerned — because Kira still hadn’t been released, and the only reason he could come up with for this was that Kira must have been routinely drinking himself to catatonia and now was having severe withdrawals, maybe even liver trouble.

Ikkaku was well-versed in the many woes of being a recovering alcoholic, but he wasn’t sure the way he’d recovered was really useful to anyone else. For one, they’d first have to be destitute and disgustingly drunk in a gutter, on parole, dead to nearly everyone who’d known them, and drowning in forgotten dreams, _and then_ have the luck of running into one of the most amazing men ever to live, Zaraki Kenpachi, followed by sixteen weeks of intensive on-the-job training, all while getting their ass kicked to shit daily by that same man. Oh, and by the way, quitting the alcohol during all of that hell was a cold turkey sandwich that had been dropped on the sidewalk and subsequently run over by a bicycle.

Yeah, Ikkaku’s cure was no good. Kira may have to take the rehab and therapy route, but Hisagi would get him through that. Those two would be alright now, he was sure of it.

Renji and Ichigo were the more pressing issue. Ikkaku didn’t know how to even _begin_ to handlethat mess.

At any rate, because of the circumstances, Ikkaku’s work environment was hellish and tense. It was actually much like the past weeks had been. Hisagi was still gone, but there was a pall over his absence since he was now sitting vigilant at Kira’s bedside rather than hiding out somewhere.

Renji's gone too, having taken some days off to provide Ichigo with some TLC, so Ikkaku was alone with his thoughts. He can't even turn on the radio because Renji had always been in charge of that, and Ikkaku didn’t know how the damn thing connected to the intercom — so he's basically fucked.

Even Kenpachi seemed to know something was going on with his employees, because he’d loudly complained a few times that the nightshift was a lot less dramatic and that _those_ guys got shit done. Ikkaku had considered taking the nightshift a few times because he could use Kidd and Killer’s company, but he knew that the next time he saw Kidd, the guy was going to give him the third degree.

Ikkaku was doing the best he could on his own, but it was really hard to get work done when he was just one guy, one guy in a tense toxic atmosphere all by his lonesome, waiting for status updates from his friends. He’d pretty much been left out of the loop, meaning he had nothing to do but wonder and just _stew,_  which was something that he’d never really had to do before.

All in all, it made him jumpy as fuck and really anxious to spend some time with Yumichika. He’d already developed a sort of comfort-attachment to him like a baby and a blanket, and let’s be honest, he needed a little comfort that didn’t come in the form of sake or dumbbells.

All that being said, when Renji called and told him it was time to go out and have some fun, Ikkaku was itching to go. He usually hated larger gatherings like that, but it's had been ages since they’d all gone out together. Figuring he’d kill two birds with one stone, he took the opportunity to ask Yumichika to go. Rangiku was coming along too, having heard about the party through Yumichika and bluntly asking Ikkaku why she hadn’t been invited — and so he'd told her to come. He would be glad to see her too. He still needed to thank her for helping him out. Meeting her had reminded him even big brother needed a big sister once in a while.

Ikkaku was really looking forward to this actually, and he got ready that evening by soaking his feet in the tub and listening to enka so he could be really zen and not be ready to punch someone once he finally got outside.

Wiggling his toes, he hoped tonight would go alright. Ichigo was coming and so was Hisagi, so… Well, it would be interesting to say the least. Plus, Rangiku was going to be there at the same time Hisagi was. . . Not to mention Hisagi had been an ass to both Renji and Yumichika, and of course then there was the feud going on between the two of them. He wondered how the poor guy had been convinced to go along.

Ikkaku's most concerned about Ichigo though, because he still didn't know what to say to him. He was already prepared for the worst as it was: quiet, haunted, ghost-like Kurosaki.

However, unexpectedly, Renji had said that this gathering had actually been Ichigo’s idea. Ikkaku hadn’t believed it at first, since Ichigo wasn’t that big on socializing either, especially with his fiancé’s friends rather than his own. Looked like that kid wanted to get out of the house just as badly as Ikkaku did.

Maybe after what had happened to Kira, Ikkaku had just expected that kind of thing to completely destroy someone's life. Even though Kira had gone through months of _torture_ and Ichigo had suffered for one night, Ikkaku hadn’t expected Ichigo to recover enough that he'd want to socialize this soon afterwards — but then, Ichigo and Kira were very different.

Whatever, Ikkaku would try not to think about it. If he obsessed over it all night, he’d just end up acting weird and making the kid feel uncomfortable. He'll focus his attention on Yumichika instead.

When it was close to time to get going, he got out of the water and put some clothes on. He was glad he’d washed his favorite t-shirt, his dragon one that always gave him special luck — case in point, Yumichika had kissed him while he was wearing this thing!

Ikkaku made sure his wallet was full before he headed over there by bus. It was very obvious to him that the place they were meeting was in Shibuya because Renji had probably wanted to be close to home in case Ichigo ended up having a freak-out and wanted to leave — he doubted that would happen if Ichigo was alright enough to have actually organized a get-together, but y'know.

When Ikkaku arrived at his stop, he walked a few blocks until he found the colorful pachinko parlor, alight with the rows of pinball slot machine screens. He shouldered the door open and wandered through to the bar in back.

Renji and Ichigo were already there, sitting together at a booth, and Ikkaku spotted them immediately, each holding a drink and talking peaceably. Renji was wearing hiking boots and a denim jacket with a gaudy scorpion pin — he was topped off with a houndstooth bandanna, a sharktooth necklace, and leery eyes. Ichigo had on a yellow shirt and a coat with the collar popped, complete with a shiny wristwatch that reflected on the ceiling each time he moved his arm. Weren’t they adorable — usually when he met with them, one or both of them was disheveled to some degree.

Ichigo spotted him first and stuck out two fingers at him from where he was holding his drink, which surprised Ikkaku immediately — Ichigo isn't sociable, like, _ever,_ but wow, he was actually smiling a little. Renji, distracted, didn’t notice Ikkaku till he was almost upon them, too busy staring at Ichigo.

“Osu,” Ichigo greeted, still somewhat cheerful, and cheerful was never a word Ikkaku would have used to describe him before — maybe _aloof,_  or lively-when-angry, but definitely not _cheerful._

Fucking suspicious.

Renji looked up with a pleased smile and greeted him with that goddamn star trek hand sign. “Pff’,” Ichigo scoffed. Renji grinned wider, showing his teeth, eyes all over his boyfriend.

Ugh, these two. At least they seemed to be in a good mood. It actually really reassured him to see that they were doing alright together, although it did seem a little out of the ordinary. For one, he’d walked in and they hadn’t been arguing. He supposed it would’ve been worse to see them all quiet and haunted and junk — Ikkaku had somewhat expected something like that, honestly, but no, they were all smiles. From what Ikkaku could tell, it didn't seem forced either, and something he felt he was good at was spotting a fake smile. It was weird though. They should be arguing more. Normally Ichigo would have given Renji shit for making stupid space-nerd references, but he’d actually laughed. Ikkaku had expected a nervous wreck, or even a ball of suppressed rage, but not… _laughter._ Ichigo truly looked alright, maybe even better than usual.

“Hey, Slim. Ain’t seen you in a while,” Ikkaku greeted. “An’ I’m _tired_ a’ lookin’ at _you,_ ” he directed to Renji with a grin.

“You made it out!” Renji said brightly, budging up to make room, rudely shoving his body against Ichigo’s to scootch him down too. Ichigo just let himself be pushed, sliding around the corner of the round booth. That right there was also strange. Ichigo was quite protective of a thing called personal space, and it would make sense that he would be even more so _now —_  but no, he just let Renji manhandle him without so much as a frown, whereas normally, he would’ve punched him or scowled or yelled or a combination of the three.

“Obviously — you don’t have to say that out loud,” Ichigo mumbled, the sarcasm sounding a little more like him as he reached for his drink, which had been left behind. “Hey, pass that down.” When Renji didn’t hear him due to being momentarily busy twisting over the back of the booth to call a waitress for Ikkaku, Ichigo leaned across him, one hand braced against the bench as he reached for his glass. Ikkaku, fascinated by this — because _whoa, what the fuck_  — had half a mind to push it further away to see just how much Ichigo would lay on Renji in public, but at the same time, that would be a sure way to ruin Ichigo’s good mood — not to mention Ikkaku didn’t want to see Ichigo slip and land his face in Renji’s crotch. He planned to use these eyeballs later when Yumichika arrived.

As he scrutinized Ichigo, he noticed that he actually looked well rested for once. He also seemed very mellow and agreeable, wearing only a mild frown rather than a deep and constant scowl. He hadn’t hardly known that Kurosaki’s eyebrows could uncrease like that. Renji however—

Renji looked like he’d been put through a towel-wringer, gotten stuck halfway, and then wound through it back and forth several times until he’d finally been dragged free. Basically, he looked pretty shit. His clothes were alright, but his skin told Ikkaku everything. There were deep creases on his face, purple shadows under his eyes, and his overall coloring was off. His voice was a little raspy too. Overall, it looked like he hadn’t been taking care of himself very well, but Ikkaku didn’t comment, knowing exactly what had been eating at him.

It's weird, because he’d fully expected _Ichigo_ to be the one who looked sick. Not only did he not look unwell in the slightest, but he seemed far calmer than normal actually, which was saying something, because Ichigo could be a pretty uptight guy and was quite the hothead, his default was mellow. It was just all around _weird._ For one, Ikkaku hadn’t ever really seen these two act like a couple before — he suspected this was mostly Ichigo’s doing, because he was sure it wasn’t for Renji’s lack of trying, what with him being a closet romantic.

“Whoa, whaddaya’ doin’?” Renji asked as he turned back around and found Ichigo’s arm between his legs and his body stretched across his lap.

“Getting my drink ‘cause some idiot red-hair made me change seats without warning!” Ichigo explained loudly — still without a scowl, _wow,_ this was weird — easing back into his spot on the bench.

“Geez, just ask an’ I’ll give it to ya’,” Renji griped, and just gave him his drink. Ikkaku watched warily, because ninety nine times out of a hundred, Renji would’ve taken the chance to fuck with Ichigo, tease him into saying please, but he hadn’t today. Something was very _not right_ with Renji.

“Thanks.”

Ichigo took a sip of his drink then and smacked his lips in a way that _perhaps_ could be construed as dissatisfaction because Renji immediately jumped in with, “What, ya’ don’t like it? Ya’ want mine?” He offered his own glass, which was still brimming with foam, and then without waiting for Ichigo to respond at all, he went on to say, “Here, I’ll order ya’ somethin’ else, where’s that waitress?”

Ichigo sighed through his nose, corners of his mouth turning down slightly, but he didn’t say a word. What… what on earth. This was some strange shit. Ikkaku doesn't understand what's going on.

“Whatsa’ matter, you okay?” Renji prodded further, and Ichigo closed his eyes, seeming to be gathering patience as he nodded slowly rather than telling Renji to get the hell off his case like usual. Ikkaku was endlessly confused by these interactions. “Just wait a sec’, I’m sure she’ll be over soon. Or here, have mine.” He pushed his beer towards Ichigo insistently.

“‘M fine with this,” Ichigo replied, promptly taking a few swallows as if to prove his statement, and Renji hesitantly settled back. Ikkaku watched them with narrowed eyes.

This was weirding him out. Ichigo really seemed to have loosened up a ton; he was being really patient with Renji too, which wasn't like him. It didn’t come across as though he were faking it, either. He actually seemed quite serene. Renji however, Renji was _off._

The moment of awkwardness passed after Renji stared at Ichigo for a few more moments and then hesitantly took his eyes off him, turning them to Ikkaku instead. Ikkaku straightened up a little.

“So Ikkaku,” Renji began with a grin, “I can’t believe you actually came, I thought for sure you’d change your mind.”

“‘Course I did. Wanted ta’ check up on… you,” Ikkaku ended awkwardly, averting his gaze from Ichigo. Fuck, there he was, being awkward and weird _already._  He’d been planning to take Renji’s cue on how to act, but fuck, Renji was being weird too, so fuck if he knows what to say.

“Why would you do that?” Ichigo voiced, but Renji had already boisterously cut in with some teasing, smacking Ikkaku on the shoulder.

“Aw no way, Senpai, I know you. You came ‘cuz _Yumichika’s_ comin’, ain’t he,” he pinned with a huge cocky grin. Ichigo showed some mild interest, elbows on the table and straw in his mouth.

That moment had almost been too quick to notice, but it put a rock in the pit of his stomach — because shit, that means Ichigo must not know that Ikkaku _knows._  He probably had such trust that Renji hadn’t told anyone that it hadn’t even occurred to him that someone else might know, _shit,_ this was awkward. Renji was fucking smooth, goddamn, he'd diverted them like a pro. Fuck, Ikkaku hated this; he was fucking sweating.

What was annoying was that Renji’s expert cover-up involved being a little shit and deliberately trying to embarrass him for the dual purpose of entertaining and distracting Ichigo. Damn kid. Renji was definitely gloating right about now.

Renji’s desired reaction was probably for him to flush red and get angry or defensive, but so what, he and Yumichika were seeing each other, big deal! There was no way in hell Ikkaku would give Renji the satisfaction of riling him up.

“Wipe that look off yer’ face,” Ikkaku griped, but it was too late; Renji had already turned and leaned the five inches over to Ichigo, who involuntarily tilted his head to offer his ear for some gossip.

With a smug grin, Renji informed him, “Senpai likes Yumichika.” Ichigo’s eyebrows shot up. He was quiet for a second, lips parted, and then gave Renji a skeptical disbelieving look, staring him in both eyes as if to check if he was being bullshitted. Ikkaku was just surprised that Renji somehow hadn’t told Ichigo this yet, considering Renji had no secrets with that guy. It was probably down to it being a rough couple of weeks. The kid’s mind had been elsewhere.

Which just made Ichigo’s look of disbelief kind of insulting. Damnit, why should he be so surprised? He was good enough for Yumichika, wasn’t he?

 _“Our_ Yumichika?” Ichigo questioned after a moment of confused silence, to which Renji nodded.

Apparently that wasn’t enough, because Ichigo went on. “Ayase-what’s-it Yumichika, your senpai,"he clarified, sounding mildly surprised. _“_ _Feather-_ Yumichika.” He goggled at Ikkaku as though he’d never seen him before.

“Yeah,” Renji said, grin growing. They continued exchanging astonished remarks and Ikkaku just leaned his chin on his hand, disgruntled, not bothering to stop them, instead turning his attention to the waitress who had come to take his drink order. “Awesome, right?” Renji prompted.

“Shōchū on the rocks,” Ikkaku said distractedly to the lady, because he needed something strong. Ahh, when was Yumichika going to get here? Not that he didn’t like Renji and Ichigo well enough, he just really missed his sweetie. It’d be so much easier to get through tonight once Yumichika got here.

Eyes glued to the door, he listened as Ichigo hummed and noted confusedly, “Your senpai likes your other senpai?...” Those two exchanged a look of some sort that seemed to convey a deeper unsaid meaning, which Ikkaku scowled at — that telepathy stuff was some spooky shit. “How the hell did that end up happening?” Ichigo wondered aloud, letting Renji rest an arm on the back of the booth, his hand hanging down and his fingers idly drumming against his shoulder. Ikkaku resisted the urge to scrub at his eyes and just blinked hard a few times.

“They met a little while ago. Really lucky they found each other, huh?” Renji reached out and smacked Ikkaku across the back of the head, the sound obnoxiously loud. Ikkaku punched him back lightning-quick and Renji let a pitiful ‘ow’ escape. Ichigo was jolted too, since Renji was goddamn _cuddling_ him, and a bit of his drink sloshed over the sides.

Ichigo didn't blow up, oddly enough. He just set his glass on a coaster and spread his legs to avoid the spill that was dripping off the side of the table and down onto his jeans. Renji gasped, half-standing up. “Oh fuck. Here, move down, I’ll get some napkins.”

Ichigo didn’t say a word, seeming completely unperturbed as Renji got napkins from a waitress and wiped the tabletop and even went so far as to try to scrub his leg dry. Ikkaku just watched uncomfortably, somewhat disturbed as Renji cautiously eased back down next to him, this time grasping Ichigo’s shoulder tightly, probably straining his joints from the force of his grip. Something's not right between them.

“That seems like it can’t be a coincidence,” Ichigo finally said, because he's the one who didn’t believe in superstitions, karma, feng shui, luck, or anything else that he couldn’t touch, see, or explain — it was one of the reasons he and Ikkaku often butted heads.

“I know, right?” Renji said somewhat breathlessly, still a little antsy. “Like I said, Ikkaku here’s the luckiest guy I know. How else would he end up walkin’ past a hair shop where Yumichika just _happens_ to work? Had ta’ve’ been luck for him to end up _there.”_

“What kind of luck exactly?” Ichigo muttered somewhat darkly, and Renji shot him a warning look for some reason, causing him to seemingly change the subject. “I don’t get how is all. Kinda’ creepy.”

“I’ll bet it’s ‘cause he wears underwear with stars on it.”

Ikkaku shoved him good for that, and again, they both were knocked around a bit. “Hey, _hey!_ ” Renji snarled viciously, curling sideways to block any further blows, and Ikkaku stopped, watching with a sick feeling in his stomach. Ichigo didn’t pay them any note, seeming to be deliberately ignoring it. Renji looked back to him attentively, thumb rubbing the seam of where his sleeve met his shoulder.

“Weeeird,” Ichigo finally muttered, and Renji nodded, humming in reply, slowly relaxing his grip. “And he likes him so much?” he asked. “Ikkaku doesn’t like people though. . . And of all the choices…? Wow, that’s just…”

“I know, same.”

“Well, they’re both trouble-magnets, I guess it’s…”

“Expected, yeah. Still pretty lucky.”

“Or a bad _coincidence_ _.”_

“Or a good one.”

There they went with that annoying ‘have a conversation in front of other people in which no one else understands what they’re talking about because they keep leaving out chunks of vital information’ shit that drove Ikkaku so crazy. Fuckin’ spooky-ass telepathy garbage.

Not to mention this was the most docile argument he’d ever heard them have.

“That is _really weird_ _,”_ Ichigo repeated. “But hey, he found someone he likes, that’s good, right? At least I don’t have to hear any more lonely-Ikkaku jokes.”

 _‘Trust me kid, no one hates them more than I do,’_ Ikkaku inwardly grumbled, deciding to let them have their fun for now. He needed a lesson or two in humility.

“It gets better.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, just wait.” Renji showed all his teeth then, his voice holding some laughter in it. Yep, here we go. “Just wait ‘till Yumichika comes in, you’ll see.”

Ichigo grinned crookedly, snorting and glancing over to Ikkaku, who was pretty steamed, but enduring it. The moment the waitress returned with his drink, Ikkaku downed that sucker. “You can stop talkin’ about me when’m right here.”

“Hey, see? He didn’t even deny it,” Renji cackled. Ichigo subtly shifted out of his grip and leaned forward against the tabletop so that Ikkaku could get the full effect, smirk and all.

“I knew you were human, Ikkaku,” he teased flatly.

“Shut it, brat,” Ikkaku snapped aggressively, taking another gulp of alcohol. Renji took that moment to slap him on the back again, almost choking him. He glared, cheeks full, which made Ichigo bark a laugh. Swallowing, he muttered that this had been a bad idea.

“Rangiku’d better get here soon so me an’ her can drink until I don’t have to listen’a’ you two,” he said with a bitterness that wasn’t genuine in the slightest. He was annoyed, but all in all, he was fond of them and glad for some teasing. That seemed to be the only normal thing happening right now.

“Wait, what?” Renji stopped him, the joking tone gone from his voice. “Matsumoto Rangiku? She’s coming here? _Now?”_ He sounded pretty upset actually. “Shit, wait, she can’t be here.” He slammed a hand down on the table in frustration. “God _damnit,_  Ikkaku, why’d you have ta’ invite her?! Why da’ you have ta’ keep antagonizing Hisagi-senpai, huh?”

“Hey, hey now,” Ikkaku growled. “That’s not how it is, you just take it down a notch.”

“How is it then, huh?” Renji growled back with a touch more ferocity.

“I want her ta’ meet everybody, ya’ know, start over. Hisagi’s back with Kira an’ everything, so there’s no reason why things have ta’ be awkward. Now don’t you dare be rude when she gets here, you got that? You be _nice_ to her, Abarai.”

Renji sighed then. “Ah shit. It’s bad already that Yumichika’s coming, and now her too. . .” He rubbed his hands over his face. “Shit, I am _not_ prepared for this.” He brightened a little with a lopsided smile. “Well we get to meet her at least.”

“Who? Who are you flipping out over?” Ichigo finally interjected before Renji could say anything more.

“Friend a’ mine,” Ikkaku replied bluntly, not without some amount of pride.

“Yeah, a _lady_ -friend,” Renji mumbled behind the back of his hand.

“Oh yeah? I’m assuming she’s caused some trouble.”

“Nah, more like trouble was caused _about_ her. Sorta’.” Ichigo frowned lightly. “Remember that really bad fight they had? That’s her.” Recognition crossed his face then with a long ‘oh.’

“Eesh. Yeah, this might go over badly. . .”

“No, it won’t,” Ikkaku said darkly, pointing at them both in turn. “Weirdness just _doesn’t happen_ ‘round her. Tonight’ll be _fine —_  unless one a' you all starts shit."

“How’s she like then?”

“You’ll know her when ya’ see her. She really sticks out,” Ikkaku tried, but Renji cut in with, ‘yeah, she’s got these _humongous_ -’ “She’s blonde,” he finished. Ichigo grunted a little.

“Try not to embarrass yourself in front of your crush then,” he said with a raise of his eyebrows, closing his eyes.

“The hell’re you talkin’ about? What does that have ta’ do with Rangiku?” Ikkaku griped.

“Well if she finds out you like Yumichika, she’ll probably never give you any peace. Rukia sure didn’t for me. Girls just _know_ that stuff.”

“I _know!"_ Renji agreed. "Rukia’s scary when she does that, man.”

“Yeah, it’s like she sees into your soul an’ ya’ just can’t lie to her. You’re lucky she’s busy in Osaka. I bet if she was in a room with you and Yumichika for a minute-”

“Step outside, bastard,” Ikkaku growled, cracking his knuckles.

“Aw c’mon, Ikkaku, we’re just messin’ around. We’re happy ya’ found someone,” Renji said with a grin. "I mean, I'm biased since Yumichika's my buddy, but still."

“Yeah. Although,” Ichigo noted somewhat indifferently. “You have your work cut out for you with that guy. I swear, every time he sees me, he tells me to comb my hair. . . I _hate_ that,” he muttered with a scowl. Renji mock-whispered that Ichigo lets Yumichika do it because usually when people criticize his hair, it's to tell him to quit 'bleaching it' rather than just complaining that it was messy.

“Oh yeah? You’re full a’ shit!” Ichigo… well, he wasn’t exactly _yelling,_  but he got pretty loud. Renji laughed.

“What, are ya’ mad, sea-urchin head? Is he wrong?” He ruffled Ichigo’s hair, finally getting some retaliation when Ichigo smacked at his arm.

“Tch’, whatever.” Ichigo then shoved his hands into his armpits with a grumpy frown. “You’re one to complain about spiky hair, seeing as your head looks like a cross between a rooster tail and a pineapple.”

“O-hoh!” Renji clutched his heart jokingly. “Shots fired! Ikkaku, gimme’ that, I need ice for this burn!”

“You’re so corny,” Ichigo breathed in exasperation.

“Yeah, loudmouth, pipe down,” Ikkaku agreed in a mumble, guarding his empty glass of ice.

“Hey, _hey,_  don’t gang up on me, you guys.” Renji then nudged Ikkaku a little. “How’ve you been then? I know it’s been a stressful couple a’ days. You holdin’ up alright?”

“What should _I_ be holdin’ up from? I’m the only one’t’ nothin’ happened to.” Ichigo had just taken a sip of his drink when he suddenly began coughing. Ikkaku bit his tongue. “W-well, I, uh… It’s been hard to sleep, but other than that, ‘m pretty okay,” he mumbled, trailing off awkwardly.

Renji wasn’t listening though, busy pounding Ichigo on the back and taking his drink out of his hand as he coughed. “‘M okay,” Ichigo wheezed as Renji whacked him between the shoulders. “He means when you went to his place and kept him up all night doin’ whatever,’” he rasped, taking another drink to clear his throat. Ikkaku released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding — wait, so he _does know that he knows?_ Geez!  Ikkaku leaned back and put a hand to his forehead, exhaling through puffed cheeks. This was not going well.

After Renji was satisfied that Ichigo wasn’t about to keel over, he then profusely apologized for intruding that night and being troublesome. Ikkaku waved a hand dismissively. “Eh, forget it. I’d rather it was at my place than in the bar of a love hotel somewhere.” He shrugged then. “How ‘bout you? How’ve you guys been?” he ventured cautiously and immediately kicked himself for such a dumb question. He was supposed to be steering clear of… _that._

“We’re doin’ okay,” Renji said, although his enthusiasm seemed to have died. “We’re alright,” he repeated, staring right at Ichigo’s face as he said it, somewhat sadly. Ichigo noticed after a moment or two and shot Renji an indignant glare, but didn’t say anything.

Ikkaku cleared his throat sharply. “Good,” he said shortly, trying to end the awkward moment. Renji continued to gaze at Ichigo mournfully, and Ichigo was getting into quite a snit over it, glancing back several times with a vicious betrayed scowl.

Ikkaku gave Renji a ‘what the fuck are you doing?’ look, but was completely ignored. He doesn't know what's going on, but something was _really wrong_ with Renji.

By contrast, Ichigo was acting pretty chill, and was certainly being incredibly lenient, allowing Renji to touch him in public at all — they usually didn’t unless it was in the heat of an argument. He'd also let several opportunities to chew Renji out pass by with a patience he didn’t usually exhibit. It was weird — the only signs of irritation he’d shown for the entire night had been when Renji had come on too strong, _unbearably_ so, and even then, he hadn't put a stop to it, letting him continue without much more than a sigh and a frown.

Ikkaku had been so worried about potential changes in Ichigo after the incident that he hadn't considered how Renji would fare — and it looked like he was faring pretty badly.

Even though Renji's not doing much else at the moment besides staring at him, openly sad, Ikkaku can _feel_ Ichigo's humiliation and the resulting anger. It made him want to end this moment and tell Renji to knock it off, because whatever this is, it's _not helping._

Before either of them could break the awkward silence, Ichigo flatly spoke up, completely sullen. “Ikkaku, that lady’s trying to get your attention.”

“Huh?” Ikkaku’s head shot up, because he knew that had to be Rangiku — thank god she was here.

“A woman?” Renji noted, no longer completely spaced-out, but still not straying from Ichigo much. Ichigo deftly avoided ending back up in his grasp, but remained close to his side to appease him. “Where?”

Ichigo pointed, and Renji’s head pretty much whipped around, like he couldn’t believe a _woman_ wanted his senpai’s attention and needed visual evidence. Which made no sense, considering Ikkaku had _told him_ Rangiku was going to be here.

Ikkaku turned around to see Rangiku there waving. When they made eye-contact, she approached the table, smiling widely as she came to a stop and adjusted her jacket, which kept unzipping by itself. She bent down and gave him a squeeze, which surprised him, but he returned it with one arm after a second, his cheek squished into her chest. He was quickly learning to enjoy being hugged. He’d just prefer to have some warning is all.

“Glad yer’ here,” he greeted, and she smiled back, perching on the edge of the booth next to him. “Hey, move down,” Ikkaku said to the other two, who were still kind of just staring. Renji looked like he was trying to catch flies with that open mouth.

“This is your friend?” Ichigo said flatly.

“Yeah, she’s a lotta’ fun,” Ikkaku replied just as flatly. “So make her feel welcome, got it?” he threatened.

“Geez, you’re pissy,” Ichigo noted somewhat idly, shaking his drink around and then taking another sip.

“These’re my friends that I toldja’ about, you remember? This’s Abarai Renji,” Ikkaku tried to introduce, turning to look over at the two. Renji had since shut his mouth and was holding onto Ichigo defensively, but wow, his eyes were bugging out. Okay, Ikkaku was just plain sick and tired of his buds treating Rangiku with no respect. Hisagi had snarled at her plenty and Renji was just being plain rude right now. Ichigo seemed to just be waiting for a social cue to say something.

“What, you two ain’t gonna’ say hello?” he prompted them somewhat angrily. Renji startled, head dropping a little.

“Uh, Hi… uh, ma’am,” he said awkwardly, not looking at her anymore. He introduced himself very formally with a lopsided grin that looked more pained than friendly. “Please uh… please be good to me,” he said customarily with a slight snag in his voice.

 _“Ma’am?_ ” Rangiku repeated, “Did you tell them I’m some sort of witch, Ikkaku?” She elbowed Ikkaku in the gut and sort of leaned onto the tabletop around him to make Renji look her in the eye, which… wasn’t really happening. Ikkaku smacked Renji on the head.

 _“Don’t be rude,”_ he hissed, pulling on Renji’s ear a little bit to snap him out of it, because he knew Renji to be pretty polite and courteous to strangers unless his temper was provoked. Shit, he just wanted these two to be nice to her and like her!

“Sorry!” Renji blurted out, nervous now that glares were coming from both sides. Rangiku seemed unperturbed by any of this, as if she were completely used to men getting all spoony on her. Renji’s weirdness, however, was more attributed to the fact that he couldn’t act normally around any women that Hisagi had seemed to have had relations with — luckily, as Ikkaku had said, weirdness didn’t survive around Rangiku, who didn’t comment on Renji’s jumpy behavior. This was to Renji’s benefit, because without any sort of teasing at his blush, he was able to pull himself together a lot quicker.

Ikkaku didn’t want things to be weird like this — he wanted them to _like_ her. _He_ liked her, why shouldn’t everyone else?! She was really cool!

Renji still wasn’t looking at her, which caused her to purse her lips for a moment and let the silence stretch, as if to see if he was going to chance a peek at her face. When that didn’t happen, she grabbed Ikkaku’s opposite leg to brace herself as she slid over him and made to plop herself on his other side. It was a tight squeeze, considering there wasn’t much space between Ikkaku’s legs and the tabletop. “Hey, Ran- _gi_ -ku, don’t sit on me!” Ikkaku shouted, getting a faceful of blonde hair and a plush body resting in his lap for a moment. “Oi! _There’s a limit,"_  he griped half-heartedly as she wedged her way inbetween him and Renji with her bum.

Renji recoiled from her in alarm, eyes round and repeatedly flicking down to where her thigh was touching his. “Uh, Ikkaku’s mentioned you before,” he said so awkwardly that it seriously hurt to listen to. “I’m glad we could meet. He doesn’t introduce us to friends often. But uh… he’s talked about you a bit, uh… Nee-san.”

“Dude, stop being weird,” Ichigo tried to say sternly, but his voice broke into laughter at his boyfriend's painful awkwardness. Ikkaku was endlessly surprised that they were that secure in their relationship that jealousy was a thing that didn’t even happen, considering how quick-tempered the both of them were.

“Sheesh, _sorry!_ ” Renji practically yelped, still looking like he was sitting on pins what with having Rangiku so suddenly pressed against him. He kept his chin turned up and his eyes on the ceiling, although they occasionally wandered down . . . Rangiku just kept her ice-blue eyes locked onto his face, just letting him babble on as if she were enjoying making him sweat. Renji swallowed hard. “I don’t, uh… I’m not good with introductions. I hope we can get along in the future,” he said formally.

“Well aren’t you cute. Please be good to me too,” Rangiku replied and Renji clammed up at the compliment.

“Okay look, let _me_ sit by her since you’re just gonna’ act _weird,”_ Ichigo huffed, making Renji get out of the booth and let him back in next to her.

“Aw c’mon, don’t be that way. Don’t be mad,” Renji implored sheepishly. “I’m just nervous she’s here when Hisagi’s gonna’ be here too. Don’t get mad at me, Ichigo.”

“I’m not mad. You’re just really embarrassing.”

“I’m not good at talkin’ to women sometimes, okay?!”

“Bullshit.”

“Whad’ you just say?!”

“I said that’s a load a’ bullshit.”

"What?!"

"Renji, you love talking to girls. You love girls."

Ikkaku sighed slowly. These guys. “An’ this is Kurosaki Ichigo,” he finally finished. Rangiku finally began talking and showing some of the personality Ikkaku liked so much.

 _“Ichigo,_ I’ve heard that name so many times,” she gasped, putting an arm around the kid’s shoulder and pinching his cheek. “And it’s _true_ about the bleached hair! I can’t believe I’m finally meeting you — you’re younger than I expected you to be.” Ichigo didn’t seem mortified by having her hanging off him so much as he did irritated. Yep, there was his personal space bubble again.

“Geez lady, get off,” he growled, swatting her hand off his face. “An’ it’s natural, see? _Natural_ — look at my eyebrows!” Renji was watching closely, his hands hovering nearby as if he wanted to steal Ichigo back. Oh, how the tables had turned.

“Ichigo, you don’t know how many girls come in to my work crying for you,” she gabbed, teasing him and prodding his cheek again. Ichigo pushed her hand off again with a frown.

“You’re right, I don’t,” he replied flatly. “All I do is go to work and school all the time, so I don’t know how that could be true.”

“You must have the irresistible charm that aloof men always carry.”

“The heck is that?”

“It’s called a _cute tush.”_

“Guuhhhh,” Ichigo groaned, shoving her hands out of his hair. “Oh my god, can you like, stop touching me?” Rangiku stopped, but continued laughing heartily at what she perceived as shyness.

“Hey, don’t tease ‘em too much, Rangiku. Abarai’ll explode,” Ikkaku commented boredly.

“Oh?” She perked up, chest bouncing as she looked back to them for a second appraisingly. “I didn’t realize you two were together.”

“See, I told you women know that stuff,” Ichigo said immediately to Ikkaku with a small smirk, who just smacked his forehead with a groan.

“Aw, why the long face, Ikkaku?” She put an arm around his shoulder along with Ichigo’s and squeezed, grinning widely as she hugged them to her. Ichigo grunted, trying to escape, while Ikkaku let himself be dragged in. “We’re going to drink all night!” she said excitedly, and Ikkaku was coaxed into a smile.

From there, the tension was cut through, Renji stopped being a weirdo, and actual conversation took place. Rangiku was just such a sociable and friendly person, and she made people feel so comfortable and _good_ about themselves that awkwardness couldn’t last. She liked to tease sometimes, but you couldn’t help but like her, because she was just naturally kindhearted and _fun._  She filled the room with warmth. Ahh, Ikkaku loved that about her.

Things were settling in nicely and Ikkaku was sure that they were all going to get along fine — which was good, because he’d like to invite Rangiku out with them in future — but just about then, he heard a door slam sharply. Looking up to see who’d just stumbled in drunk, Ikkaku was surprised to see that it was just Hisagi, standing in front of the door that had fallen shut behind him. Everyone at the table abruptly went silent.

Hisagi just stood there for a moment more, staring, looking for all the world like he wanted to turn around and walk right back out. His expression was tense and wary as he watched them, namely Rangiku. Renji seemed displeased at the sudden change in atmosphere and waved Hisagi over, beckoning him to join them. Hisagi jolted forward after a false start, walking over to the table like he was marching to his death.

Ikkaku hopped out of the booth to let Hisagi in. The poor guy hesitated for a second, seeing that he was going to be between him and Rangiku. After offering a forced smile, he slid in and kept a good foot and a half of space between himself and her, leaving not much room for Ikkaku to squeeze in next to him again.

“I, uh… I didn’t think you were comin’,” Ikkaku offered somewhat uncomfortably, trying to break this godawful silence. Hisagi just ignored him however, and his stomach tied itself in a knot. He cleared his throat when he got no response. “Hisagi,” he tried again, sounding even more uncertain.

Hisagi looked up after a second, seeming to have thought Ikkaku had been addressing someone else. “Oh,” he said, his voice so quiet and raspy that it sounded like he hadn’t spoken in a week. “Izuru thought I should go out and have some fun. I think he got tired of me sitting at his bedside,” he mumbled, smiling sheepishly. “Heh’.”

“Well I’m glad you came, Shuuhei-kun,” Rangiku said, picking right up on the prickly atmosphere and melting it immediately. “We’ll make sure you have some fun tonight! Let’s get you a drink!” Ikkaku relaxed, exhaling in a rush; thank god for her.

Hisagi stiffened up and sat like a wooden plank was tied to his back when — in that warm and welcomingway she had about her — she put an arm around him. It was obvious he was incredibly uncomfortable around her, what with the way he’d had interest in her before but was now back with his boyfriend. It was funny — Ikkaku had told Rangiku pretty much all about that, but she didn’t let that get in the way of having a nice night. Hisagi didn’t seem to feel the same way.

“Aww, don’t look so sad, Shuuhei-kun, we’ll cheer you up,” Rangiku went on with a merry smile, raising a hand to catch the attention of a waiter. “Think about what you want to drink before they get here.”

Hisagi nodded, smiling in a way that seemed pained. He was so _so_ awkward and quiet, and if it weren’t for the fact that he’d just said he’d been sent here by Izuru, Ikkaku would’ve wondered what force on earth could’ve convinced Hisagi to show up to this party.

The guy was so damned tense that Ikkaku just felt a million times worse for how he’d treated him, because _h_ _e’d_ caused all this. He was the one who’d turned Renji against Hisagi with his dumb grudge. Even though Rangiku obviously wasn’t mad, Hisagi was still really uptight around her because of what had gone on there, and when Yumichika got here, well, that was a whole ‘nother awkward situation. The worst was that it was painfully clear that Hisagi felt like Ikkaku would try to choke him if he spoke out of turn or even _looked_ at Rangiku the wrong way. Hisagi clearly thought he didn’t have a single friend at this party, and even though no one was being openly mean to him, it's plain to see that the guy wished he could sink into the floor.

Hisagi ordered a water, and when Rangiku complained that that was no fun, he changed to beer. Ikkaku just sat there, tense and quiet as Renji and Rangiku coaxed Hisagi into speaking with bubbly conversation about the variety show they’d both watched the night before. Ichigo was a mostly silent observer. Ikkaku felt like shit. Hisagi wouldn’t even talk without glancing over to him, as if trying to confirm that his words wouldn’t incite a nasty comment or fit of rage. _Aaagh shit,_  he had caused this mess.

“Hey guys, listen, listen’a’ me,” Renji called, pulling his attention to other things. “We’re a larger party so we’ve gotta’ claim our seats pretty soon. Saturday’s a busy night.”

Ikkaku’s eyebrows creased. “What? No way! Yumichika’s not here yet!”

“I’ll tell him where to find us, don’t worry,” Rangiku assured, taking out her phone and popping a piece of gum in her mouth, chewing on it zealously. Hisagi seemed grateful to be able to get away from her when Ikkaku reluctantly agreed and slid out of the booth, following Renji into the basement-level restaurant.

They got to their table and sat down — Ikkaku made sure to plant a foot on the empty seat next to him so that Yumichika could sit there. Rangiku ended up in the next chair down with Hisagi trapped between her and Renji this time, with Ichigo next to Renji and on Ikkaku’s right side. Right around when they were placing drink orders and Ikkaku was growing worried as to his lateness, Yumichika showed up, dressed in black but for twin flashes of colored eyeshadow.

“Oh, he’s here!”

Ichigo cursed and hurriedly combed his bangs with his fingers, trying to make them lay flat. Ikkaku could see Yumichika talking to the greeter, who pointed over to them. Ikkaku grinned and waved a hand at him to get his attention. Yumichika’s face flashed recognition and he headed over to them, breaking into a smile when Renji enthusiastically greeted him and Rangiku swatted him lightly on the bum. Ikkaku stood up until Yumichika settled into his chair.

“You look great,” he said with a big grin. “What took ya’ so long ta’ get here?”

“What are you talking about? I’m on time,” Yumichika replied with a coy smile. Ikkaku hummed and checked a clock to make sure. “Oh, you’ve missed me, you sweet man,” Yumichika cooed, stroking Ikkaku’s cheek and leaving him in a happy daze.

“So what’f’ I have,” Ikkaku mumbled, making no effort to swat his hand away, because wow, that's nice. Man, he couldn’t stop looking at him — he had really missed him. “I ain’t seen ya’ for almost a whole week.”

“What did I tell you,” came a whisper. Ichigo promptly snorted, causing Ikkaku to look over at him. Renji was biting his lips hard to try to block a smile, but it wasn’t working. Ichigo had a hand over his mouth, tears in his eyes from the force of his silent laughter. Once Ikkaku looked at him, he couldn’t keep it in, and pretty much spat into his hand — that got Renji going too, and the two of them were soon howling with laughter and banging the tabletop. Ikkaku just rolled his eyes. Whatever.

Once Ichigo calmed down, he wiped his eye with a sigh, and sniffed. “Glad you came out, Yumichika, this is priceless.”

However, drawing attention to himself had been a mistake, because Yumichika’s face fell, and he began tutting, “Oh Ichigo,” casting a woeful glance to the state of his messy hair. “Do you not own a single comb?” Ichigo’s laughter ceased immediately, morphing into a groan as he put his head straight down onto the table. Renji patted his back and Ikkaku busted out into laughter of his own as Yumichika suggested that Ichigo borrow Renji’s hairbrush.

From there, they all broke out into amicable chatting. Yumichika and Rangiku were huddling around a drinks list. Hisagi took the opportunity to hide behind his menu while Ichigo and Renji both looked over theirs, Ichigo quietly, Renji running a commentary on what looked good. He also made sure to tell everyone several times not to pick any spicy food without _warning him in advance._

Ikkaku picked something out and then set his menu aside, grinning as he watched everyone chatter peacefully, his gaze then drifting back to Hisagi. The poor guy still seemed extremely awkward around them all. It was like the night was moving on without him. Yumichika and Renji were being quite sociable, Rangiku was merry and cheerful, and Ichigo simply observed them contently, but Hisagi just sat like a statue.

Once the waitress came over and Renji ordered for the table, there was some more easy conversation. Ikkaku scootched closer to Yumichika and held his hand a little under the table, whispering junk in his ear to make him smile.

Rangiku was cracking jokes and putting her arm around Hisagi’s shoulder. He was beginning to loosen up a little, laughing somewhat nervously. Ikkaku was glad that she had showed up — she and Yumichika were the only ones acting somewhat normally.

Renji had only started acting stranger as the night went on. Ichigo was the same, but Renji got unusually quiet in comparison to his usual extroversion when among friends. He stuck close to Ichigo and was shiftier and more suspicious of strangers, not to mention he jumped at any sign of Ichigo going through even the slightest discomfort. Ichigo was suffering through it with admirable patience, but he was obviously at the end of his rope.

Finally, Ichigo stood up and quietly informed them that he’d be right back — he just had to go to the bathroom, if the food started getting there while he was gone, please save at least one of each thing for him, et cetera.

As he made to head to the restroom, Renji latched onto his arm, standing up lightning quick. “I’ll come.”

He didn't even bother lying that he also had to pee, and everyone gave them weird looks — humiliated, Ichigo snapped in frustration, “Okay look, I can’t take this anymore! I’m being smothered! Can’t a guy go _piss_ by himself?!” He yanked his arm out of Renji’s grasp and took a firm step back. Renji shrank away, aghast.

Ichigo clearly regretted losing his cool immediately, as his tone became exasperated. “I need _five minutes_ to myself, okay? Just _five — minutes.”_

“Okay, okay, I’m _sorry_ _,”_ Renji moaned guiltily, dropping back into his seat. He sheepishly played with his coaster, spinning it, glancing to Ichigo anxiously.

Ichigo merely sighed at the apology. “… It’s okay,” he said after a moment, knocking his hand against Renji’s head in a fond pat-shove combination before he split to the bathroom.

Ikkaku frowned deeply, glancing around at everyone else's confused expressions. Wow, this was  _really bad._

It occurred to him then that Ichigo might have planned for them all to go out because he'd gotten sick of being holed up at home with Renji. It made sense now why he'd organized it with Renji’s friends and not his own — he'd probably hoped that with his buddies around, Renji would get distracted enough to focus on someone else and give him a few moments of peace.

Now, Ikkaku wasn’t good at interfering, since he’d had a hands-off-unless-asked policy about his friends’ problems for a long time, but ever since he’d told himself he was going to offer a helping hand, he knew he had to get up in his little brothers’ shit when he saw them falling off, and Renji was _plummeting —_  he was fucking up _big time._

   
    He's gonna' say something to him.

Ikkaku took his hand out of Yumichika’s for a moment. “Hey, one sec’,” he told him, moving over one place to take Ichigo’s seat so he could grill Renji for his weird behavior.

“What’s up with you, why’re you bein’ like this?” Ikkaku asked calmly, because maybe Renji wasn't self-aware enough to realize he was getting on Ichigo's last nerve.

“Like what?” Renji parroted guiltily, squirming. Ikkaku grimaced — okay, yeah, he knew he was being weird, but couldn’t stop himself.

“You know what,” Ikkaku accused, layering on the disapproval pretty thick. Renji pretty much melted in shame, but too bad, Renji needed to hear this. He was smothering Ichigo like he'd break if he stopped, and what’s worse was that he was doing it in front of everyone. Ikkaku was amazed Ichigo hasn't completely blown his stack already, because Renji was obviously driving him nuts. He's surprisingly patient when it's important, but a man's patience can only hold out for so long and Renji was holding on  _way too tight._

Ikkaku can't blame the poor guy. He probably felt helpless to fix this and was overcompensating, drowning Ichigo in attention to the point where he _was_ drowning.Ichigo obviously loves the guy too much to tell him to cool it, so Ikkaku had to.

“Hm?” he prompted, trying to draw a response.

“…” Renji’s mouth was drawn into a taught line. Ikkaku leaned a little closer, lowering his voice to keep this business private.

“Look, it’s over,” Ikkaku asserted slowly and calmly, “so _let it go.”_

Renji’s expression hardened then, and Ikkaku knew then that he wouldn't be able to get through to him. When Renji had the balls to disagree with him, there was no swaying his determination. “I dunno’ what you’re talkin’ about,” he said with a stubborn icy tone, and Ikkaku was not having this. He was not letting Renji fuck up the best thing in his life, god damnit, this stubborn shit is going to  _listen to him!_

“Don’t pull that shit with me,” Ikkaku said firmly. “You know exactly what’m talkin’ about. You need to lay offa’ Ichigo.”

“Whatta’ _you_ know, Ikkaku? Get off me,” Renji huffed angrily, shoving at him and crossing his arms. A nerve in Ikkaku's forehead pinched. He didn’t take kindly to being ignored, but he kept in mind that Renji was stressed and frayed down to the raw nerves; the kid didn’t give him sass otherwise.

“I know a lot,” Ikkaku grumbled, “Listen’a’ yer’ senpai.” Renji’s lips pursed in pure frustration as he stared straight forward like he was trying to incinerate his drink, but he didn’t tell Ikkaku to fuck off, which was a good sign. Ikkaku didn’t often get _on_ him about things, because usually Renji just came to him on his own; when Ikkaku had to get on him, Renji had already resolved himself in stubbornness, and that was definitely the case here too. “You thought you'd lost everything. The hell’re you doin’ fuckin’ up your second chance?”

“You’re crazy,” Renji said flatly, shoving him away with his teeth bared. Ikkaku had put a wounded animal on the defense. “Leave me the fuck alone.”

Ikkaku wouldn’t be bullied, leaning right back in as Renji hit and slapped at him. Thankfully the idiot stopped when he began to draw attention to himself. “Seriously, kid, you pretty much thought your _life_ was over, but you got it back. Be grateful you get another chance. Don’t screw things up by bein’ paranoid.”

A hint of doubt began to show on Renji’s angry face. “It looks like he’s copin’ pretty well. If he’s gettin’ past it, you have ta’ get past it with’m. Actin’ like this is _messed up._  I bet he wanted to hang out tonight so you two could leave it behind for a few hours. It’s probably been hauntin’m night an’ day. Give’m a chance for _one night_ to pretend like things are normal — and stop hovering.”

“I’m taking care of him,” Renji hissed viciously.

“If I know Ichigo, at a certain point, _this,”_ Ikkaku waved a hand between them to reference Renji’s weird over-attentive behavior, “isn’t gonna’ make him feel cared for. It’s gonna’ make him feel like you’re pitying him. He’s puttin’ up with it right now 'cause he knows you’re still screwed up over it, but you’re diggin’ your heel right inta’ his pride. At some point, he’s gonna’ stop being grateful for your care and start resentin’ you for it.” Ikkaku was one hundred percent sure he knew what he was talking about, because he, Ichigo, and Renji were all alike in this.

“But it’s not _to_ that point yet, huh? I’m supporting him.”

“Support has a limit.”

“It only just happened. He needs me right now,” Renji insisted, although he sounded less determined and more desperate. “I have to be here for him, Ikkaku.”

“If he needs you, he’ll _go_ ta’ you — that’s what ‘being there’ means. What you’re doing now is goin’ way overboard,” and Ikkaku would never tell someone they were overdoing things if he didn’t absolutely mean it. “This isn’t what he wants, kid. Look, what happened was really fucked up, but it’s over now,” he said calmly, trying to steady him. “He’s okay. He’s safe now, and he's recovering. Stop rippin’ the scab off. It’s over — so _l_ _et it go.”_

“Nothing is over,” Renji said softly, but with such cold fury that Ikkaku felt chills go down his spine — because the kid was dead serious. “When I find that guy, it’ll be the last thing he ever does.”

Ikkaku sighed through his nose. This is just fucking _great.  
_  
So Renji was confiding in him that he was seeking revenge, and now he had to bear the burden of that knowledge. Ikkaku wasn’t a nark, so he wasn’t going to tattle to Ichigo or anything, but the alternative was talking Renji down himself — because Ikkaku can't just let Renji commit murder, and he's one hundred percent certain that he _will_ if he doesn't convince him otherwise. Problem was that Renji wasn’t listening to reason.

Now, Ikkaku wasn't one to deny a man his revenge, and he _certainly_ didn’t think those people didn’t deserve to meet their doom by his kouhai’s hands, but that kouhai had a life and a family, he had too much to lose to just throw it away like that.

By this point, Ikkaku had really reevaluated what being big brother truly meant, and right now it meant keeping little brother out of jail.

He knew that if he told Renji that his life would be ruined by a prison record, Renji would say he didn’t care what happened to _him_ as long as Ichigo’s attackers got their just deserts — because of that stubborn selflessness, Ikkaku had to hit him in the soft spot. “Think about what’ll happen to Ichigo if ya’ go to jail."

Sure enough, Renji flinched, eyes shifting around, as though he’d considered this but had been too consumed by rage to let that slow him down.

“He’ll kick your ass once ya’ get out — and what about _before_ you get out, huh? If these goons are still lurkin’ around, you’ve gotta’ be here.” Renji frowned petulantly, but it was obvious the seed of doubt had been planted and was germinating alarmingly quickly.

“If things are as serious as you say, then he really needs yer’ support right now. He’s only healed up this quick ‘cuz he has you, kid. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Renji’s expression hardened. “Getting retribution for Ichigo is _not stupid._ I’m gonna’ have revenge, Ikkaku.”

Ikkaku narrowed his eyes with a huff, because he had a sneaking suspicion as to why Renji was taking this so hard.

“If it’s the last fuckin’ thing I do in this world, I’m gonna’ get revenge,” Renji repeated in a snarl, glaring at nothing.

“Revenge for who?” Ikkaku said skeptically. Renji’s expression blanked for a second and then recovered as he scowled over at him. The seedling had finally sprouted, breaking through the earth to the fresh air of reason,only to then immediately wither and die when the cold winds of denial coated it in frost. Shit, he’d taught the kid too well.

“I couldn’t be there to stop it, but I’m not going to let this go unreconciled. I’m gonna’ have revenge for Ichigo. I’m gonna’ find that guy and make him pay.”

Ikkaku sighed through his nose, frustrated, but begrudgingly acceptant of the fact that Renji couldn’t be reasoned with for now. He’d have to ask Yumichika to talk to him.

He pursed his lips, eyes narrowed. “… Fine, but leave no trace.”

“Oh no,” Renji said with a false laugh, “There won’t be anything left of’m. I’m gonna’ bury that piece a’ shit so deep in the suicide forest no one'll ever find him. Those guys got to have Ichigo, but _Jaegerjaquez_ broke his trust. I won’t let him live. I won't forgive that- that _trash.”_ Ikkaku rolled his eyes with a groan, leaning away from Renji’s ear finally, but only because Renji was getting upset enough to stutter his speech, and when he stuttered, he _spat._

“I _said_ ‘leave no trace.’ It’s a suicide forest, not a murder forest.” Renji looked up in mild confusion, not immediately seeing what he was getting at. “Someone who kills themselves alone can’t bury themselves afterward.”

“Fine,” Renji hissed back, “Unburied an’ the birds can eat him.” Ikkaku was about to answer, but it was about then that Ichigo came back, and he had to move back down to his own chair. Renji flashed a very convincing smile to Ichigo as he sat down and Ikkaku just sighed and shook his head with a disapproving glare. He hoped the kid took his advice about giving Ichigo some space at the very least.

It was then that he noticed that Yumichika was staring off into space. Seeing that he was neglecting him, Ikkaku scooted back over and smiled, easing his hand back into his.

Renji was silent now, sitting with his hands in his lap and gazing at Ichigo with wounded puppy eyes. Ichigo couldn’t take it for very long, groaning, “Ahh, don’t look at me like that.”

Renji turned his face away but kept the expression. “You shitty red-hair. I was only gone a couple minutes,” Ichigo grumbled, but there was a clear apology in his tone, and yep, just as always, their arguments didn’t last very long.

Renji took that as an invitation and flopped his head pitifully onto Ichigo’s shoulder. Ichigo nudged him off immediately. “Hey, c’mon,” he prompted, bouncing his shoulder again to get Renji to sit up straight. He continued with words that obviously weren’t meant to be heard by anyone else. “Stop. Just for tonight…”

Renji’s eyes flicked to Ikkaku for an instant and his mouth opened. Blinking for no more than a moment, he recovered admirably quickly and smirked, picking an olive on a toothpick out of a glass and holding it out to Ichigo teasingly, as if telling him to pull the olive off using his mouth.

Ichigo’s brow creased — which was a good sign. That was the most normal expression he’d made all night. What was surprising was that Ichigo actually reached up and grabbed it, eating the olive and keeping the toothpick in his teeth.

“Alright,” Renji replied with a grin that grew cockier by the moment, his eyes hooded. Ichigo watched on suspiciously, his mirrored smile flickering. “Just fer’ tonight, let me go all out.”

The toothpick in Ichigo’s teeth snapped loudly as he bit down. “I’m not lettin’ you do shit!” he replied loudly, and Ikkaku was half torn between annoyance and glee, because _this_ was how they should be.

“What, you scared?” Renji challenged with a wiggle of his eyebrows, and that smug attitude of his always drove Ichigo up the wall in a way that was most amusing. Ikkaku knew if the kid didn’t get so riled up and aggravated by it, Renji wouldn’t do it.

“Like hell!”

“I’m goin’ all out on you then,” Renji gloated. Ichigo’s face flushed in anger as it always did, and Ikkaku couldn’t take the innuendos anymore.

“Ah gross,” he muttered, figuring it was safe to interject because those two had gotten loud enough to attract the attention of the rest.

“My my,” Yumichika said with a coy smile, “Don’t go at it on the table, you two.”

Ichigo smacked a hand over his eyes with a groan, face pink. Renji’s head popped over to Yumichika in slight confusion. “What? No. That was a challenge. Means I’m gonna’ slay him at Baka-ball.”

 _“Baca_ -ball’s a one player game,” Ichigo supplied. “Stupid-ass,” he muttered.

“So what? ‘M sure I can find a way to kick your ass tonight!” Renji said with a wolfish grin. “No messin’ around. You gave me an invitation.” He smirked widely. “Don’t cry when ya’ lose.”

Ichigo slammed his hands on the edge of the table, chin jutting out as he growled back, “In your dreams, shitty bastard!” Ikkaku grimaced as they got progressively louder.

“Get ready to eat those words.”

  “That’s some big talk!”

“Hey, _hey,_  I can back it up!”

  “Oh yeah? Why don’t you prove it?!”

 _“Shh,_ shut up, you’re too loud!”

_“Don’t shush me!”_

Yumichika began to laugh, but completely differently from the one Ikkaku had fallen for. This one was melodious and smooth, perfect for film, nothing like the unrefined giggling he was used to.

When Ichigo and Renji both turned to shoot identical glares at Yumichika and shout ‘what’s so funny’ in unison however, Yumichika’s hand flew to his mouth to repress a snort as he broke into silent giggling.

Hisagi cleared his throat a few times, taking a drink to try to get the rasp out of his voice. Ikkaku shot him another glance, and fuck, he still looked so damned uncomfortable at this party. He could understand why, of course, but he'd expected the guy to eventually settle down, and even as their food finally arrived and everyone started eating and passing the plates around to get some of everything, Hisagi seemed displaced in the cheery atmosphere. _Ichigo_ was in a good mood for god’s sake; he was letting Renji fill his plate for him! And Hisagi just sat there all _gloomy,_  looking for all the world like he felt like everyone here hated him.

It wasn’t as if anyone was treating him coldly — and although Ikkaku wasn’t initiating conversation with him, others were. Rangiku had been very kind, Renji was tentatively friendly, and Yumichika hadn’t seemed to acknowledge his existence at all thus far. Even so, Ikkaku felt pretty bad about the way Hisagi wouldn’t speak unless spoken to, since he was pretty sure it's because Hisagi thought he was still mad at him.

He took that moment to do something really dumb. It was like time slowed down and he was viewing the wreck as it happened, but could do nothing to stop it. It was too late — his mouth had already opened and what had spilled out was, “Hey, how’s Kira?”

And of course, everyone took that moment to go inconveniently silent. Rangiku and Yumichika — who both had no idea that Kira’s absence at this gathering was sorely felt — seemed to have gone quiet coincidentally, but Renji had actually paused halfway through bringing food to his open mouth, just frozen there, and Ichigo’s eyes were flicking back and forth between them warily.

Hisagi didn’t answer for a few moments, seeming to be searching for the right words. Ikkaku kept his lips pressed together tightly, regretting everything he's ever done since birth.

Hisagi then cleared his throat and replied quietly, “He’s doing alright.” The silence ensued for a few more tense moments, so he took it upon himself to speak again. “He’s recovering pretty well, actually. Just these darn withdrawals stickin’ around… Heh’.”

It was clear that taking care of Kira was causing a lot of physical stress, because he looked so damned tired, but he wasn’t asking for any help at all… As far as he knew, he hasn't even told anyone that Kira would like visitors. Ikkaku couldn’t help but feel that he’d completely crushed any thought in Hisagi that his friends would like to help him out.

There were a few more quiet moments until Ikkaku grunted, “Ah.”

“It probably would’ve done him a lotta’ good to come out here tonight,” Hisagi went on, rambling nervously, scratching the back of his head. “I think he’s getting tired of seein’ my face day in an’ day out.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Ikkaku snapped, and promptly clammed up along with Hisagi, their jaws shutting with coinciding clacks.

Just as Ikkaku was mournfully thinking about how far apart they’d grown, Renji cut through the tension by leaning in earnestly and asking, “Shuuhei-senpai, how soon can I come an’ visit him?”

“… Soon,” Hisagi said awkwardly. Renji immediately lit up in a relieved smile and then leaned closer to Ichigo and said, “Hey, let’s make’m’ some beef stew.”

Ichigo raised an eyebrow and very calmly brought a kushiyaki to his mouth, biting a piece of meat and dragging it off the skewer. “By that do you mean why don’t we call my sister and have her make beef stew, or do you mean why don’t _I_ make beef stew while you sit and do nothing?”

“That’s not true!” Renji shouted, setting his chopsticks down so he could grab Ichigo’s shoulder and make him look at him and admit that that shit _wasn’t true._

“Hmm.” Ichigo sipped out of Renji’s glass, ignoring his shoving.

“Hey, I help! _Hey, I help!”_ Renji insisted. “I’ll even do it myself if I have to!”

 _“No,"_  Ichigo replied with a no-way gesture. “Not after last time.”

“C’mon, you _know_ that wasn’t my fault. _Hey,_  c’mon.”

“I told you we should call Yuzu, but you didn’t listen,” Ichigo refuted, and Ikkaku smirked. He’d long since noticed that it was either the two of them in a full-on shouting match, but just as often, it's one of them sitting there, either calm or smug, as the other hollered at them. “Just accept that she’s the only one in the family that can cook.”

“Rukia cooks,” Renji grunted petulantly with his lip sticking out.

“And you can’t, what's your point.”

“Damnit Ichigo, that shit is _not true!"_

“Well, you _don’t_ then,” Ichigo amended calmly, tilting his head to take another bite as though this was of little note to him, while Renji had actually twisted his entire body and had puffed himself up threateningly in a way that just wouldn’t work on Ichigo.

“Don’t say that so calmly!”

Ichigo just kept eating, picking off of Renji’s plate when he ran out of food — Renji didn’t even notice that his chicken wings were disappearing. “What about how I make you lunch like _all the time_ since you’re a big man-child who’d eat fast food every day otherwise?” Hisagi and Ikkaku both glare at Renji begrudgingly, having envied him his special lunches for like two full years now.

“I don’t _ask_ you to make me lunch!”

“Your eyes do,” Ichigo said neutrally, and that shut Renji up. He faltered in his next shouted response and blinked balefully. Ikkaku had to double check that he’d heard that right too. Was Kurosaki drunk or something?

“I think I’m thirsty,” Ichigo voiced in an overly obvious manner, and after a moment of Renji just staring at him, speechless, he jolted and immediately turned to catch the attention of a waitress, ordering another drink for Ichigo, who took that moment to dump Renji’s pile of chicken wings onto his own plate, the crafty bastard.

Ikkaku shrugged a shoulder, busy stuffing his face one-handed. He wiggled his fingers inbetween Yumichika’s under the table, tickling the side of his leg. When Yumichika looked up, halfway through a piece of kara-age, Ikkaku bumped his side against him and grinned. Yumichika smiled back.

“Oi, another round!” Ikkaku called to her just before she left. “Hot shōchū!”

“They _do not,"_  Renji finally grumbled, not willing to let the point drop even after Ichigo’s excellent evasive tactics, although he seemed pacified. Ikkaku wonders if Ichigo isn't a fucking genius, because Renji had chilled out a ton since they'd ordered their food. Ichigo's let Renji pick his dinner for him and order all his drinks, y'know, he's let him feel like he was taking care of him even if it really was only simple silly things. Ikkaku would've blown it off as stupid if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, because it was  _weird_ to see Ichigo let someone else take charge of his shit, but Renji seemed to really perk up, being allowed to dote on him a little — it's funny, because really, Renji's the one who's being spoiled here, Ichigo's being really indulgent, letting him get away with even that much.

But whatever, as long as Abarai doesn't have an episode, it's all for the greater good.

“How do you know?” Ichigo replied, smiling when Renji attentively pushes a new lemon water and a vodka sour over to him. He seemed pleased to watch Ichigo drink it, so Ichigo takes a few gulps. “Can you look at your own eyeballs?”

Renji then waved a hand. “Fuck that, Ichigo. My point’s that Izuru should have some love sent to him. Comfort food or something. Feed his soul!” Ikkaku's always wondered before why Renji never does that stupid 'listen to me' thing with Ichigo, even though Ichigo often puts on a show as though he was ignoring him or showed it on his face that he thought what Renji was saying was a complete pile — but he thinks he knows the reason why, because Ichigo pretty much always looks at his face when he's talking, or makes some sort of noise in response. Even now, his eyes were flicking back and forth between Renji and the chicken he was eating. “You know, so that he knows we’re thinkin’ about him.”

“How about flowers?” Rangiku mentioned, butting into their conversation — although it wasn’t really a private discussion anymore what with the way Renji had been shouting previously.

“Kira likes marigolds,” Ikkaku told her, only to see Renji shaking his head, biting his lips and glancing at Hisagi.

“. . . Oh?” Rangiku voiced, brow furrowed as though she were disturbed by this. Ikkaku shook his head with a never mind.

“Daffodil, I meant.”

“We should make a card,” Yumichika put forth.

Hisagi swallowed, seeming surprised with the sudden show of support. “He’d like that,” he said quietly, his frozen expression quickly melting to something utterly… _touched._

“We’ll do it, then,” Renji interjected. “I’ll make sure everyone signs it and keep together whatever stuff you all wanna’ send him. How’s _that_ for doin’ something, huh, Ichigo?” he said smugly.

“One, that’s not making food, which is what you were trying to prove you could do, two, you’re supposed to be doing this for Kira, not to prove something to me.”

“Ugh, I can’t win with you today!”

“Maybe we could give blood,” Ikkaku mused, because he wanted to contribute too, and contributing through things that had to do with violence and pain made things a bit easier for him. “Would he need blood for some reason? What’s his blood type?” Hisagi waited a full three seconds before even beginning to reply. Ikkaku was feeling just as awkward — Hisagi was so cautious to even speak to him and it's _agonizing._

“B,” Hisagi said hesitantly, “I don’t see why he’d need it, but that’s nice of you to offer.”

“Hey, that’s the same as you, Yumichika,” Ikkaku noted, taking Hisagi’s response to mean that he was just reluctant to accept, spinning the same old ‘I don’t want to burden you’ kouhai spiel. “See, I do remember the things you tell me! You could give some blood — if you wanted.”

Yumichika’s expression didn’t change, but it seemed to set like concrete. “I don’t give blood,” he replied, so calmly that Ikkaku was sure he must have been mistaken about the slight twitch to his brow.

“What? Why not?” Ikkaku asked. “You afraid of needles?”

“Hey, don’t say that word around me please,” Renji called over from where he was now  _openly snuggling_  Ichigo, who was tolerating it due to being allowed to keep the last few chicken wings that Renji had found out he’d stolen.

Ikkaku scoffed at Renji and his squeamishness of needles. “Says the guy who got like fifty billion tattoos.”

“Hey, _hey,_ I had to be put to sleep during that shit! It's a serious phobia!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“So you haven’t told him then,” Hisagi suddenly said to Yumichika, and this strange tense silence came over the table. Everyone froze. After a moment or two, Ikkaku became aware that no one was talking, and not knowing what was going on, he looked around at their faces in confusion. Rangiku’s eyes were wide. Renji looked _horrified._ Ichigo was the first to move, slowly setting his glass down.

Even Hisagi seemed to have realized his fate, his face reading, ‘oh shit, what did I just do.’

Yumichika was silent, staring Hisagi down as if daring him to say one more goddamn word and see if he didn’t get his throat slit.

Ikkaku looked between them, trying to understand what accounted for the sudden change in atmosphere. “Told who? Me?” He only assumed Hisagi meant him because he seemed to be the only person here who wasn’t aware of what was going on. “What didn’tcha’ tell me?” He looked to Hisagi for explanation when Yumichika didn’t say anything.

No one dared speak. Renji was making these panicked throat-slicing motions to Hisagi, who visibly panicked, stuttering, “Ah… I- I shouldn’t… Um…” He wouldn’t look at Ikkaku as he answered, hesitantly lifting his eyes to meet Yumichika’s cold glare. “Uh… Do you want to?”

Ikkaku didn’t get what was happening, but it was clear to him that Hisagi had just messed up even worse, because Yumichika’s face flushed dark red, his lips pursing tightly in clear anger. Wow, he was _mad._ Ikkaku blinked, turning towards him slightly.

“I mean it’ll come out eventually.”

“Stop talking, _now,”_ Yumichika hissed so viciously that Ikkaku raised his eyebrows in surprise. Holy shit, he’d never seen him so mad. He hadn’t hardly thought anything could get under Yumichika’s skin, but frick, he was _fuming._

Hisagi looked guilty then, sheepishly begging Yumichika for forgiveness, “Yumichika, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“Don’t. Say. Another. _Word!”_ Yumichika spat, his face completely filled with blood.

Ikkaku was really concerned by then, because holy cow, Yumichika was spitting jacks. What had Hisagi even said to get him this upset though?

As much as he wanted to side with Yumichika and calm him down, at the same time, Hisagi was his bro. He _wanted_ Hisagi to be his bro again, and that couldn’t happen if he was always throwing him under the bus.

“Hey, everybody relax,” he said with a grimace, gripping Yumichika’s shoulder, trying to defend Hisagi but still cool Yumichika off. “He probably didn’t mean anything by it, Yumichika.”

Yumichika didn’t want to hear that, because he _jerked_ himself away, causing Ikkaku to retract his hand. Yumichika was so mortified and angry at that point that he just rounded on Ikkaku instead, who just stared blandly as “It doesn’t matter what he meant by it!” was screeched in his face.

He backed off a little, holding his hands up in surrender. He didn’t really care what had happened — he just wanted whatever this was to be alright. “I think it does. Means it was an accident.”

Yumichika glared at him, heaving with furious breaths for a few moments, but his shoulders slowly began to drop and he stopped baring his teeth. Renji watched on with amazement.

“Look, it’s okay. D’ya’ have a tattoo or something? It’s no big deal.”

Everyone relaxed all of a sudden. Rangiku put a hand to her chest as if to slow her racing heart, while Hisagi looked like he’d forgotten what air was until this moment. Renji let his head flop over the back of his chair while Ichigo hid his eyes with a hand. Sheesh, they were awfully dramatic, weren’t they?

Yumichika breathed out on a sigh, calming down and giving Ikkaku a smile that was a bit forced. “Thank god for you.”

“Why?”

“You’re so wonderfully simple.” Whether that was a poorly veiled allusion to stupidity or not, Ikkaku didn’t care. He was just glad Yumichika had settled himself down.

Hisagi wasn’t letting it go, seeing that he’d made Yumichika pretty mad at him and was desperately trying to salvage their relationship before Yumichika got into a snit over this. He had to pry this grudge out of Yumichika’s greedy little fingers while the wound to his pride was still fresh, or Yumichika would never let this go.

“Yumichika, I’m sorry,” he begged, “Lemme’ buy you a drink.”

“Please don’t speak to me just now.” Yumichika tone was so cold that it startled Ikkaku, causing his gut to clench up. He glanced to Hisagi. Shit, he must’ve really embarrassed Yumichika for him to react this way.

“Yumichika, come on!”

Yumichika turned on him again, his expression vicious, but his voice deadly calm and hardly raised above a whisper, “Hisagi Shuuhei, I know myself too well and I’m about to say something cruel that I can’t take back. Now you _leave me alone_ before I do something I’ll truly regret.”

“I’m sorry,” was all that escaped poor Hisagi as he stared at Yumichika, aghast.

Rangiku cut in then, because Yumichika was just ignoring Hisagi now, who looked two steps from  _tears._ “Yumichika, you should go to the bathroom,” she advised.

“Oh no, have I blotched?” Yumichika’s hands flew to his cheeks. Ikkaku felt mildly queasy about Yumichika’s utter dismissal of Hisagi’s distress. It made sense if Yumichika was just trying to cool down and let it go so that he didn’t end up losing control of his mouth, but all the same, he felt bad for the guy.

“Here.” Rangiku handed Yumichika her compact.

Obviously trying to regain his composure, Yumichika mused aloud, “What kind of card should we get for Kira-san, I wonder.”

“A carp for peace,” Renji suggested, sounding like he wanted to smooth things over just as much as Hisagi had.

“Good one,” Ikkaku muttered, because he'd figured tonight would go wrong at some point.

“Yes. Or perhaps a bird on a tree branch,” Yumichika said lightly, and Ikkaku would agree if not for the fact that Kira hated birds.

Although he knew well enough not to say that out loud, Hisagi apparently _didn’t,_ because he went and stuck his foot in it again, making Ikkaku want to reach over and cover his mouth with a hand for his own good. “That’s a nice thought, but Izuru doesn’t like birds.”

Yumichika just smiled and closed his eyes, but it was clear he was steamed, because his eyebrow twitched and he just slammed the pocket mirror shut. “Well,” he said with a sharp sarcasm, “I’m sure we’re going to get along swimmingly then, aren’t we.”

“Oh Yumichika, you broke my mirror!”

Ikkaku hurled himself away. “Whoa man, whoa!”

Renji just put his head in his hands. Hisagi seemed ready to collapse, still just pale and staring, face a mask of guilt. Everything was going horribly — Ikkaku should’ve fucking stayed at home.

At that point Rangiku cut in, and pretty much everyone cringed and listened to her, because she was always cheery and never harsh, but she sounded serious now. “Stop this. We’re here to have fun, and we’re going to _have_ fun.” She gave Yumichika a glare that Ikkaku certainly didn’t envy. “Yumichika, you’d better say sorry.”

Yumichika spent much more time with her than anyone else did and must be more resilient to that kind of thing, because he still protested. “I don’t have to apologize! Why doesn’t _he_ have to apologize to _me?_ ”

Ikkaku put a hand on Yumichika’s arm, tentatively adding, “He already did, Yumichika.”

“I get it, hun, believe me,” Rangiku said, “but it’s too much.”

Yumichika took a deep breath through his nose and let it out, eyes fluttering upward in the angriest eye roll Ikkaku had ever seen. He wouldn’t look at Hisagi, but he begrudgingly grit out, “I shouldn’t have overreacted.”

Hisagi didn’t reply at all, completely cowed into silence. Ikkaku’s heart clenched a little at the sight of him sitting there, face so pale and bleak, eyes wide and staring forward.

“Now _drink_ ,” Rangiku said firmly, and everyone but Hisagi grabbed a glass and took a few gulps of alcohol.

The tension slowly diffused and the silence melted away. Renji and Ichigo were talking together somewhat cheerily, some energy rebuilding there now that Renji had stopped acting like Ichigo would break at any given moment. Yumichika was chattering to him a little bit and Rangiku was chiming in, but Ikkaku just couldn’t stop glancing over to Hisagi, who was just kind of… _sitting_ there, still just staring forward.

He couldn’t help but feel like now that he’d let go of his grudge against Hisagi, Yumichika had taken one up. Yumichika was being so incredibly cold to him and Ikkaku couldn’t understand for the life of him _why._

He was pretty sure everyone just needed to cool off, so he turned to Yumichika the moment he seemed to be done eating and said, “Oi Yumichika, let’s go shoot pool! C’mon!”

He was already tugging him off to the billiards area where a few people were smoking and racking up. Behind them Ichigo called out, “Can I get in on that?” When Ikkaku turned around in confusion, he then added, “Or was that just an excuse to be alone together?”

“Why should I need an excuse, huh?! I'm not ashamed!”

“Alright, alright,” Ichigo said. “Matsumoto, _you_ play with me.”

“Hey, she wants to play with _me,_ ” Renji interjected. “You suck! Too easy of a win. C’mon, Matsumoto-san, you know you wanna’ play four-ball with _me_ , don’t you?”

“No, she doesn’t!” Ikkaku shouted back at them in exasperation. Geez, he gets up for one second and they’re all hogging her. “Come on over here!” he beckoned. “Those kids’re no fun! Play _eight-ball_ with me an’ Yumi an’ I’ll prove I’m lucky!”

“You’ll just have to share me, you all,” Rangiku said with a cheery smile, cheeks rosy from the few drinks she’d had. “I think I’ll keep Shuuhei-kun here company.” Shuuhei finally broke out of his staring contest with nothing to look at her in surprise.

“Looks like I’m stuck with you,” Ichigo said to his fiancé with a mock frown. Renji just grinned at him amorously, leaning onto his fist. Ichigo stood up and slapped him on the back. “Let’s go then. I’m gonna’ smoke you.” From there, Renji had to hurry and get up and follow after them to an empty pool table. “Lemme’ in on this game, Ikkaku.”

“Let _yourself_ in,” he said gruffly, but truthfully he was glad to see Ichigo still showing interest in things. When Kira had started getting depressed after everything, he’d never wanted to hang out or do anything anymore.

“Aw, I thought me an’ you were playin’ _four-ball_ together,” Renji said in disappointment.

“I don’t like four-ball,” Ichigo informed, which was a total lie — Ikkaku knew damn well that Ichigo loved that shit.

“What?!” Renji gasped, affronted, and goddamn, being around those two was a neverending game of ‘pass-the-megaphone.’ It was either one or both being loud at any given time. “You never told me that! Why not?”

“You take it way too seriously.”

Renji huffed through his nose. “You’re the one who does.” He crossed his arms then sulkily. “Ikkaku, _you_ play me. Four-ball, let’s go.”

“No way. Eight-ball.”

“What? _Eight-_ ball? Really?” Renji whined, throwing his head back. “But I thought you _liked_ one-on-one games!”

“It’s eight-ball night, Abarai! I’m feelin’ lucky!”

“That’s what I’m afraid of!” Renji barked, his expression softening when he saw Ichigo was excited to play.

“You ready?” Ikkaku prompted, looking to Yumichika, who’d been standing at his shoulder, smiling amusedly. “I’ll show ya’ how it’s done, Yumichika.”

As Yumichika followed him to the table, Ikkaku picked out some billiard sticks for them. Renji was busy gathering the balls and putting them in the rack, pushing them out to the center of the table. Ichigo stood close by with a mischievous little smile. Renji suddenly jolted and stood up straight, whipping around to glare at him. “Wh- _Hey!_ ”

“What?”

_“You know what!”_

“Hahah, your voice just cracked!”

"It did not! Go over there!” Ichigo snickered and switched sides. Ikkaku placed the cue ball and stood back, closing one eye and crouching down to make sure it was centered.

It didn’t take long for Yumichika to drift over to Renji and say something that couldn’t really be heard over the boisterous music and chatter happening around them, and from the look on Renji’s face, he seemed relieved. They spent a long time over there talking privately, so much in fact that Ikkaku and Ichigo decided it was best not to bother them and invited two other men into their game.

Re-chalking the end of his cue, Ikkaku kept a cautious eye over on Hisagi, who was now alone with Rangiku. He knew that Hisagi had Izuru back and that he wouldn’t dare step out on him, but even so, it made him a little nervous knowing that Hisagi had had his eye on her before. He’d never actually _gone after_ her, but he’d made his intentions clear.

The two of them were still sitting there at the table, and it was clear that Hisagi was really uncomfortable around her, but Rangiku — god bless her — was acting like nothing was wrong and seemed to be giving him some serious advice, although Ikkaku wasn’t sure from this distance. She was smiling, but it was rather gentle, and Hisagi was looking at his lap, his expression one of utter shame.

After a few shots and getting a few of the striped balls in, Ikkaku glanced over at the perfect time to see Rangiku reach out and take Hisagi’s chin, tipping it up to make him look at her face.

Ikkaku paused, watching on as she smiled a little more. Hisagi said something back to her and gave a sad pained smile in return. She then patted his cheek, pinched it, and yanked on it. He smiled a little more and was coaxed into drinking a bit and smiling for a few selfies. Ikkaku grinned, returning to the game with renewed fervor, sinking a rebound shot.

Ahh, where was Yumichika — he was getting so lucky right now! He had to come see this!

Looking up and around for his sweetheart, he saw Yumichika pat Renji’s face one final time, and finally Renji straightened up and latched onto Ichigo again, seeming encouraged in some respect. Ikkaku beckoned Yumichika over to him, grinning once he was back at his side.

From then, the night went on pretty well and Ikkaku ended up being glad that he’d decided to come out after all. Other than Renji confessing his plans for homicide, everything seemed to have smoothed itself over. Yumichika was at least being civil to Hisagi again — well, he wasn’t talking to him, but he wasn’t shooting him glares either and that was something.

After they finished with their game, they split into the casino for a bit to shake out the upright pinball machines. As he led Yumichika around for a good spot that wasn’t too smoky, he passed behind Renji and Ichigo, who were standing at one of game stations and watching the slots spin. Renji was behind Ichigo, intimately close, hugging him. Ikkaku hurriedly looked away and tugged Yumichika on to an open station quite a ways away, putting him down in the seat.

“Here, try it out, it’s pretty fun. I’m payin’.”

“I’m not sure how good I am. I think it will be a waste of money,” Yumichika replied.

“It's about havin’ fun. Just try it out.” Ikkaku shelled out a thousand yen note and fed it in the machine, watching Yumichika try to play for a while.

Behind him he heard the three dings that signified a win. “Ahh, good one, Ichiban,” he could just barely pick up, the low quiet voice just barely above his audible threshold. Fuck, they're still too close by.

“Don’t call me that in the open.”

“There's like, no one here.”

“Yeah right — get off, you big leech.”

Ikkaku was trying to ignore them, really he was — luckily, Yumichika’s sweet voice cut in and distracted him.

“Let me see you do it,” Yumichika said woefully. "Is there any skill involved?"

“Wait, you’ve never played before? _Ever?”_

“I'm not a gambler.”

“Okay, here, budge up.” Ikkaku wedged himself into the one-person seat beside Yumichika, worming one arm around his back and scootching in, their thighs pressed together, and wow, he really likes this!   
  
“… Looks like you’re ready to start, what’s the problem?”

“I may have been guessing what to do this whole time,” Yumichika admitted in embarrassment.

“It’s okay, I’ll teach you.” Yumichika nodded. “Here, sit on my leg. We don’t fit.” Yumichika settled on his thigh, letting Ikkaku reach around him on both sides — _fuck,_  he loves today.

“What you do,” Ikkaku explained as he poked around in the little tray of metal pinballs below the dome protecting the game-screen, “is shoot these pinballs through the game. Since they come out here and fall on their own through all those little pegs, you've got to try and control how far they go. You turn this knob on the bottom to shoot them, so they'll fall through the targets. That’s where the skill comes in. You don’t want them to bounce right over and you don’t want them to just fall. You have to find the perfect spot."

“If you get the target, you get money?” Yumichika asked, looking at the elaborate light display inside the machine.

“No,” Ikkaku replied, realizing he hadn’t really explained how to win. “When you hit the target, the screen turns on, and it’ll play some kinda’ animation, I dunno’, it’s different with each model. You’re trying to get three numbers to match, and if they do, you get more balls, and you get to play longer. When the numbers _do_ match, you get a jackpot, and the machine spits out pinballs down here, which you get to keep and exchange.” He pointed to a tray below the first one.

“You’ve got your winnings box here,” he gestured to a square bucket. “When you’re done playin’, you call an employee and they’ll exchange these for you, and you can get prizes and shit with your receipt. No one does that though. Most people take the receipt and go exchange it for cash somewhere else.”

“Let me see you do it,” Yumichika said, settling back in Ikkaku’s lap and watching as he started playing.

“Oh my, you keep winning. How often do you do this?”

“Eh,” Ikkaku muttered, eyes focused on the game mostly, “a while back I spent a lotta’ time in places like this… It’s lost its charm for me now, but I guess it’s hard ta’ unlearn a skill, and—  _shit-_ ” Ikkaku cursed as his string of jackpots finally broke when he got a three, a three, and a fucking _two._

“Look how much you won!” Yumichika cried, and Ikkaku glanced down, seeing that the tray was pretty full. How long had he made Yumichika sit in his lap so he could play fuckin’ _vertical pinball?_

“Ah man, how long did I make you sit and watch? _Fuck_ ,” he cursed, banging his palm against his temple repeatedly.

“Never mind that — you won all of this in one go!” Yumichika burst, smiling with a certain degree of pride. Ikkaku broke into a hesitant smile too.

“Ah, you’re right.” Ikkaku assessed his winnings with a little smirk. “That’s pretty good for one game. Looks like you gave me special luck, Yumi,” he said with a grin. “Here, press the call button.” He slid a lever over and watched the silver balls spill into his prize bucket — ahh, he loved shiny metal shit. Yumichika leaned up to look for the call button. “Unless you wanna’ try,” Ikkaku said, reconsidering. Yumichika sat back down with a smile, saying he thought he had the hang of it now from watching him.

Ikkaku fed another bill into the machine, knowing that with that first string of wins, he’d pretty much been paid the funds for five games, so Yumichika could afford to completely lose without costing him anything. “Show me whatcha’ got,” he said with a grin, and Yumichika placed his hands on the controls slowly, glancing to him once before starting.

“Turn the knob _just_ past the middle… That’s it. . . Whoa, you got like five in a row! Damn, look at you go! You did pretty good, Yumi!”

“You’re calling me ‘Yumi,’” Yumichika noted neutrally, and Ikkaku paused, since he hadn’t actually noticed. The first time had been on purpose, but not the others… however many other times there had been.

“You don’t like it? I can stop if you don’t.” It was then that his phone began to ring in his pocket. Cursing, he dug it out, still watching Yumichika’s game as he opened it and held it to his ear. “Who’s calling?” he asked.

“Come back into the restaurant, you two. Our three hours are up,” said Rangiku. “Get Renji and Ichigo too if you see them.”

“Got it. Be there in a sec’,” Ikkaku said, hanging up.

“Who was that? You’re not leaving, are you?” Yumichika asked, looking up at him distractedly just as he ran out of shots, and wow, Ikkaku wouldn’t have believed that he’d never played this before, because he’d already started winning — Ikkaku hadn’t won like the first ten times, even though the statistics of that were nearly impossible.

“Rangiku. Here, lemme’ take care’a’ this.” Ikkaku pressed the call button and then shouted down to the girl at the desk, who was already coming over to attend them. “Hey, we need separate boxes!”

“What? Ikkaku, it will all fit in this one,” Yumichika pointed out.

“So?” Ikkaku replied. “I’m not mixin’ my winnings with yours— that’s _yours._ ” Yumichika tried to protest, saying that it had been Ikkaku’s money in the machine, Ikkaku assured, “It’s your first win, you’re keepin’ it! So _there_ , Yumichika!”

“Alright, if you insist.”

“Good,” Ikkaku asserted with a grin. “Here, you keep playin’, I’ll be right back.” Ikkaku slapped down a couple of bills and headed off before Yumichika could protest.

He looked around for Renji and Ichigo, but when he didn’t immediately find them, he just figured they were already at the table, and headed back to the izakaya to chip in on the bill. When he got to their table, he found it empty but for Hisagi, who was standing nearby with his arms crossed, seeming to be waiting for someone to come back and was most surprised that it had turned out to be Ikkaku.

“What, did they all scamper off now that it’s time ta’ pay?” Ikkaku complained, trying to make this the least amount of awkward it could be.

“Ah, Matsumoto-san went to fix her lipstick,” Hisagi said quietly, “and Renji and Ichigo are spending their prize money.”

“A’right. Whatever.” Ikkaku slapped down a purple bill and Hisagi contributed five blue ones. “Y’know, I think that probably covers it. Renji can cough up the rest.”

“Mm.”

From there, they sort of just stood around waiting. Damn, Ikkaku wished he could think of what to say. It never had _used_ to be like this, had it? It was like he’d dug a pit between them and was now looking at it judging whether he’d be able to leap across without falling in. It wasn’t just Ikkaku’s past cruelty though — Hisagi had changed, and Ikkaku didn’t know how to be his friend anymore.

That was a big part of why he had been unable to connect with Hisagi, actually, was because the guy had just _changed._ In the past, he’d been very goal-oriented and passionate about things like music and writing, but when Kira had gone out of his life, Hisagi had lost all motivation for that stuff. Ikkaku no longer knew how to talk to him now that he had no interests or hobbies, because all Hisagi wanted to talk about for months had seemed to revolve around finding someone new or sex or vaping, and Ikkaku couldn’t really have an in depth conversation about that.

Hisagi had no more dreams, and people like that had _dead eyes._  It was like there was no soul there. He didn’t know how to talk to him — he didn’t want it to be like this!

What did they have that was common ground now that their past mutual interests were off the table?

Well… There was always Yumichika, wasn’t there?

“Yumichika seemed pretty ticked at you.” Fuck, Ikkaku could smack himself.

Hisagi looked off somewhat guiltily, his voice incredibly sheepish and regretful, “Yeah, I embarrassed him. It was completely my fault. I’m surprised that he kept his temper with the way I wouldn’t let it drop. Don’t look badly on him. It was all me.”

Ikkaku shifted from side to side uncomfortably, looking off in the other direction too, and holy shit, where was Renji when ya’ needed him? They needed a guy around who could express his emotions with no shame.

“Uh… I can put in a good word for ya’ if you want,” Ikkaku offered, because damn, he didn’t know if he could really do this _apology_ thing. He knew he was in the wrong and he was sorry, but there was the matter of his pride. . . Plus, he didn’t know how to word the damn thing! He’d rather just make nice with Hisagi until they were on good terms again, and then he could sincerely apologize as a man should.

Hisagi was looking at him now actually, having frozen and then turned to look him dead in the face, as if he were judging whether Ikkaku was pulling a fast one on him. When he realized that the flush to Ikkaku’s cheeks was there because he’d _meant_ it, he quickly shook his head and waved his hands. “Oh no, you don’t have to.”

“I know that,” Ikkaku huffed, “but I will if you want!”

“O-” Hisagi stuttered. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Ikkaku repeated back, and fuck, wow. He wiped his face hard with an eye roll at the ceiling. Fuck this.

Okay, yeah, he knew he had to start building up to this ‘I’m sorry’ thing, because if he didn’t do it soon, he would regret the state their relationship was left in for the rest of his life. Shit though, he was really going to have to eat crow here. This guy was his junior for one, which already made it hard enough to admit that he’d wronged him, but that wasn’t really the problem. Ikkaku had never had to sincerely apologize for something this bad in his entire life. He’d never done many things he’d regretted, and the few things he had regretted had never been wrongs that he’d done to others, but to _himself._

“So… you, uh…” Ikkaku grunted lowly, hands shoved in his pockets. Hisagi was listening attentively — he could see so out of the corner of his eye and it just made this that much harder. “You went back,” he concluded.

“Yes,” Hisagi replied with a tone of caution, like he thought he was about to be chewed out.

“… I didn’t expect you to do that,” Ikkaku admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

Hisagi inhaled sharply and turned a little pink, his brow scrunching. “Yeah, I just. . . ya’ know, I…” He huffed then, coming to the point. “I know I don’t deserve to ask for his forgiveness after leaving when he needed me,” he said seriously, his expression becoming earnest and somewhat far-off, tender even, “but I decided that even if I don’t deserve his forgiveness, he deserves my apology.”

“…” Ikkaku just kind of stared at him. That was the exact thing he’d been pondering for the last few days. It was just, that kind of mature reasoning was exactly what he would’ve expected from Hisagi a year or so ago — that was the Hisagi he’d thought had been lost forever. It was like he was being spoken to by a ghost.

Not only that, but if he’d ever had any doubts that Hisagi was genuine or that he’d stopped loving Kira, just looking at his face right now took that away. He was just so devoted, so loyal. Ikkaku almost couldn’t stand it.

He didn’t know if he could ever be as big a person. Ikkaku didn’t deserve to apologize but Hisagi deserved an apology — but could he give it? He knew he was in the wrong and that now it was a matter of personal pride, which was why this was so damn difficult.

He cleared his throat once, swallowing. “Had ta’ve been hard,” he muttered, crossing his arms, gauging if whatever supernatural force was out there would give him a bit more advice through Hisagi’s lips.

“Well, y’know,” Hisagi sighed, “I decided to get over myself.” He shook his head slightly, seeming more at ease now, as if he’d thought all of this through and that people’s reactions to it really didn’t matter. . . It was almost like… this was the new passion, this was the new source of all of Hisagi’s creative energy, this was what he was pouring his heart into — _Izuru._

“I can let it all go,” he sighed, “It doesn’t need to follow me forever.” Ikkaku listened on, gut clenching further with each word, because he’d beaten this man down over months and months and somehow he’d found the strength to keep going. How was it that Hisagi possessed such inhuman patience and kindness and such a capacity to forgive and love and _take back?_

“It was a messed up time and we all did some things we’re not proud of. Some more than others,” Hisagi said shamefacedly, and Ikkaku swallowed bitterly, because although Hisagi was talking about himself, he felt the words keenly. “I did a lot of thinking and I realized that this will all go away. I’ll get over everything that happened. I _am_ over it…” Hisagi smiled a little. “I’m over everything except him.”

Hisagi’s voice rang so gently yet so true that Ikkaku couldn’t help but look at his face, gazing off into the distance. “I will never get over him.”

Ikkaku just didn’t understand. He didn’t understand how Hisagi had gone through such tragedy and his love had still survived. Those fond feelings hadn’t been crushed under all that pressure. That softness still lived in Hisagi’s heart — no matter how much it had been broken and choked and beaten to pieces, it was still resolved and determined enough to keep on on going. Even though it had caved in, it still had room in there for Kira Izuru.  
  


Just look at his face too. . . Ikkaku can't imagine knowing such peace.  
  


He stared at Hisagi as though he’d never seen him before. Just as he was about to try to say something, a rowdy flame-headed pair came through the doors, boisterous and shoving and carrying stuff they’d won — Renji had chosen mostly snacks, from what Ikkaku could see.

“Oi, pitch in,” Hisagi said with a grin, waving a hand at the money pile, and Ikkaku wondered if that was all it had taken, a listening ear to take all the weight in the world off Hisagi’s chest. He hadn’t even needed to reply or agree or do _anything_ but be there, and for all this time, he hadn’t even been willing to do something so simple — it hadn’t taken but a moment, and just look at that _smile._

As Renji contributed ten thousand, Ichigo stretched and yawned, balanced on his toes, arms above his head, t-shirt revealing his stomach. Renji smiled lovingly, but the moment Ichigo unstretched and let his eyes open, he seamlessly schooled his expression into a convincing scowl.

“What are you, some shitty cat?” he snapped aggressively.

“What does that make you? A shitty red tiger?” Ichigo retorted. Renji scowled deeper and snatched up the wad of money in his fist, stomping off to go pay the bill. Ichigo yawned again and wandered after him.

Ikkaku shared a glance with Hisagi, and then they followed behind, standing and waiting with Ichigo for Renji to pay. Yumichika came through the doors at that point, handing him a prize receipt.

“I got them to bill it separately.”

“Ah fuck,” Ikkaku said, taking the slip of paper. “I meant ta’ come back for ya’ — I got distracted.”

“Shuuhei was keeping you, was he?” Yumichika said with a rather wary look directed at Hisagi, who turned away sharply, having been caught eavesdropping. Well, not eavesdropping — it was as though he’d expected to be included for a moment. Fuck, he had to fix this soon.

“Nah, it was my fault,” Ikkaku assured. “Hey, c’mere.” Yumichika stepped in and Ikkaku slung an arm around him.

Renji was standing at the counter, waiting for service so he could pay, but there seemed to be a problem with the register. Ichigo was bored and was probably a little drunk, which wasn’t a pretty combination.

For one, now he was pulling up the back of Renji’s shirt and looking at the waistband of his underwear, tugging on it. “These are new,” Ichigo noted, to which Ikkaku snorted. Yumichika broke into a fit of giggles, sliding an arm around him in return.

“Ichigo, knock it off,” Renji said sharply, not taking his eyes off the workers behind the counter, who were apologizing profusely for the wait and the difficulties.

“Tch’,” Ichigo tisked, pulling Renji’s shirt back down. “You’re goin’ frigid on me.”

“Fuckin’ _pardon me?_ You wanna’ say that shit again?” Renji finally turned around in indignance, only to find Ichigo smirking at him a little.

“Just yankin’ ya’,” he assured, nudging him a little.

Renji let the air out of his lungs with a smile and put an arm around Ichigo’s shoulders, eyes fond. “Little shit,” he muttered, locking Ichigo’s head into his armpit and noogieing him. “Who told you you're funny, huh?”

“Hey!” Ichigo laughed, trying to pull himself out, but Renji didn't let go.

“We’re so deeply sorry for the inconvenience, o-kyaku-san! Our most sincere apologies!”

“It’s okay,” Hisagi said when it was clear Renji was completely distracted — by Ichigo's _neck,_ shit, they're _both_ drunk.

Ichigo was pushing Renji’s face away from him quite violently, but it wasn’t working, and when it was clear that Renji had a solid grip around him and that there was no way he was getting free, he began to claw at Renji’s back. “Oi! _Oi,_  you shitty monkey! Listen when a person's talking!”

“Kiss me.” Renji dipped him and wow, Ichigo was _really_ loud when he was mad. Renji wasn’t paying any attention, probably getting his eardrums blown in the process.

The employees were at a loss, since they had Renji’s bill and needed to give it to him, but Renji was _quite_ preoccupied. Hisagi wasn’t helping either, because he'd started dog-calling encouragingly. Okay, Ikkaku was done humoring them.

“Oi, lovebirds! Go be yucky _outside!”_ Ikkaku shouted, although he began laughing afterwards, because fuck, he’s seen those two kiss like twice in his _entire life._ They are so fucking drunk.

“I won’t forgive you!” Ichigo hollered in Renji’s face, pulling on his hair, “Set me down!”

Ikkaku watched with a sort of conflicted grin, absolutely fascinated, because normally this kind of romantic display wouldn't warrant his attention, but the fact that it's these two — who he’d next to _never_ seen exchange an explicitly kind word or caress — he can't look away. They're so damn _different_ from how Hisagi and Kira are together, yet somehow they still seem just as in love, and it made him start to think there wasn’t just one right way to love someone else, that there wasn’t a ‘real’ or ‘true’ way to love.

Maybe he’d been worrying for nothing.

“I swear you’ll never piss right again, shitty baboon-face! Let me _go!_ ” Ichigo was released with a wet smack, which caused Ikkaku to grimace when he realized it had been the seal of Renji’s liplock breaking. Alright, gross.

“Ah, young love,” Yumichika commented as Renji brought Ichigo to his feet and then bodily dragged him outside, where they could clearly be seen having a shoving match on the sidewalk.

“More like young animosity,” Ikkaku scoffed. “Enjoy it now, ‘cause you’ll _never see that shit again._  It’s been a weird week for them, that’s all this is.”

“Ah yes, didn’t they have some sort of cheating scare?” Yumichika noted. “Renji called me, wanting to spend the night, but I was… Well, I was unavailable,” he ended somewhat uncomfortably.

“They’re fine now,” Ikkaku assured, and it wasn’t _lying,_  but it sort of felt like it. “Here, let’s say goodbye.” Rangiku returned from whatever corner of the earth she’d been hiding in, and they said goodbye to her and Hisagi, then departed together, calling a quick farewell to the bickering couple near the bus-stop.

“Bye! Good _luck,_  you guys!” Renji called through cupped hands, only to have Ichigo hit him on the arm and snap something like, ‘don’t rush them.’

Ikkaku raised a hand, keeping his other arm around Yumichika as he walked off with him. Yumichika gave a long sigh, separating from him so he could stretch and yawn into his hand. Ikkaku smiled. “Hey, that was fun, huh? ‘M really gladja’ came.”

“As am I, even if only for the sake of seeing you,” Yumichika said with a coy smile, “and I’m glad to have checked on Renji. He seems to be taking things rather hard, but oh well. It’s to be expected.” He shrugged.

Ikkaku suddenly realized that Yumichika _knew._  Suddenly, Yumichika's conversation in the corner with Renji made sense. Renji had screamed his feelings to Ikkaku when they were still fresh, but hadn’t gotten a chance to really talk about it with Yumichika, not until tonight.  “Ahh, he told you, did he?”

“He told you?” Yumichika replied, mildly surprised. “I’d no idea.”

“Same.”

“He told me the night he found out, but we didn’t have a chance to talk, really. When did he tell you?”

“He came to my place that night. I guess since you weren’t available or somethin’,” Ikkaku muttered. “I didn’t realize that he’d told someone else... How much do you know?”

“Not many details. That Ichigo was... _attacked_ by a friend," he admits. "Renji is so, _so_ upset, Ikkaku. I don't think he's moving past it.” Yumichika sighed morosely, and Ikkaku swallowed, deciding to change the subject, because it didn’t feel right to be talking about it, even if they both knew.

“What was that goin’ on with Hisagi earlier, huh? Why’d you jump down his throat?” Ikkaku asked, scolding just slightly. “That ain’t like you.”

“He and I need to have _words,”_ Yumichika said through gritted teeth, his entire mood changing. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“All I’m sayin’ is that I think you were a little too harsh. Try not to give him such a hard time. He’s a good guy,” Ikkaku said earnestly. “I’m sure he didn’t mean ta’ offend you.”

“Well I’m offended, so it doesn’t matter what he _meant_ _,”_ Yumichika repeated somewhat stubbornly.

“It does matter. Means that if he has the chance, he won’t do it again, ‘cuz it was just an accident. Try to make peace.” Ikkaku sighed at himself. “I ain’t been having the smoothest ride with’m’ either, but’m’ gonna’ try an’ fix it. Last thing I need when I’m tryin’a’ mend ties with’m is for you to be _on_ him. I don't wanna' have to pick sides, so please, if you can’t be nice to him, at least don’t be mean.”

“I’ll be… _civil_ to him if it would make things less unpleasant for you.”

 _“Civil?"_  Ikkaku rolled his eyes. This little shit was as stubborn as he was, wouldn’t you know it?

“Let’s not talk on this now,” Yumichika said with a wave of his hand, seeming to realize it was getting Ikkaku irritable. “Let’s talk about how Renji _dipped Ichigo in public_ and escaped alive. It’s a tale for the ages,” he joked, smiling that gorgeous smile of his. Ahh, Ikkaku just couldn’t stay mad.

He was sure that given some time to cool off, Yumichika would come around and be nicer to Hisagi again — and if he wasn’t, well Ikkaku would just have a talk with him. He didn’t want there to be discord between the man he was dating and any of his friends. He didn’t want to end up having to choose, because any decision there would hurt.

“Alright, alright,” Ikkaku sighed with a grin. “Ahhh, I missed you, did you know that?” he said, stopping and turning towards Yumichika, taking his hand. “Haven’t been able ta’ stop thinkin’ about you all week.”

Yumichika smiled gently in return. “I’ve missed you too.”

Ikkaku then tugged on his arm excitedly, because shit, he hadn’t had Yumichika to himself in _four days._

“Hey, let’s go out an’ have some fun,” he urged, pulling Yumichika along to god knows where.

Yumichika let himself be led, wearily laughing, “More fun? Goodness me.”

“Yeah, c’mon! We can still find an open arcade probably, let’s go! Speed up, you’re walking too slow,” Ikkaku complained. “Ugh, here, just get on my back!”

“Ahh, Ikkaku, it’s _late,"_  Yumichika said sensibly, smiling fondly in the face of his excitable chatter.

“Aww.” Ikkaku slumped in disappointment. “You have ta’ go?” he grumped, sticking his lip out in a mope when Yumichika raised a hand to pet his cheek.

“I’m free tomorrow, so why don’t we spend the day together?” Ikkaku pouted a bit more and Yumichika flicked his lower lip with his thumb, causing him to retract it. “Go home and get some sleep so you’re ready for me. We can spend those winnings doing something fun. I’ll meet you at Roppongi Crossing, how’s that?”

Ikkaku grinned with newfound glee at the prospect of having Yumichika all to himself for an entire day. “Sweet!” He grabbed him by the upper arms and yanked him in for a swift hug before they parted.

At the corner, he turned and called back with a toothy grin, “Be ready, I’m gonna’ keep you all day, Yumichika! Count on that!” Yumichika laughed and waved goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so time to have a talk. Even though I've been updating DCMO a bunch recently, it's still technically been in hiatus, because I've just been posting all the material I had saved up from /before/ i got writer's block a year ago, but I think I'm ready to finally write some more, which is good!
> 
> except it's been so long since I was actually /working/ on this fic that I have to get reacquainted with it before i can keep going — because TBH some of my story notes don’t make sense anymore. I’ll squint at them and be like, 'wtf, it says this is foreshadowing, but shit, I can’t remember what the foreshadowing IS, gd it.' yeah, not good.
> 
> So before I’m able to write anything more, i want to edit what I have posted so far and cut out a bunch, because the length is getting crazy and the real plot's still just barely started, if you can believe it. We’ve only just made it to the start of the first major story arc: 'Renji's revenge.' There’s so much more that I have to squeeze in, and if i don't start cutting it down, it's gonna' end up like 400k or something if we're /lucky/ and that's insane.
> 
> So please be patient with me, i'm only through editing down the first 6 chapters so far, it's really slow going, but I'm gonna' try to complete this fic. 
> 
> Those of you who are still sticking around and reading this dinosaur, thanks for your support and continued comments, it really keeps me from giving up when I lose motivation. I'll keep doing my best for you guys!


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